


Hold Steady

by Lunarrua



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Or Is It?, The drama!, Unrequited Love, or is it Lovers to Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarrua/pseuds/Lunarrua
Summary: Harry's getting married and it's going to be the happiest day of his life - his best friend and best man, Jeff, is determined to make that happen.  So determined, that he's almost able to ignore what's happening inside his own heart. So determined, that he's missing the signs that maybe he's not helping to make Harry happy after all.





	1. Hold Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saysthemagpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saysthemagpie/gifts).



> This fic is based on a Tumblr fic outline posted by the wondrous joy of a writer that is [saysthemagpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saysthemagpie/pseuds/saysthemagpie) who was inspired by the song [Marry Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_IwENcMPOA) by Thomas Rhett
> 
> So, basically I just went and robbed their idea and wrote this because they politely said I could! Thank you!!!!
> 
>    
>  _Dedicated to all of us who, at some time in our lives, secretly fell for our beautiful, charming, out-of-our league friend and did our best to be happy for them when they fell for someone else._
> 
>  
> 
> Further tags may be added as more chapters are added, as this fic may go to some slightly dark places.

The air streaming over their faces from the open car window is warm and sweetly fragrant with something that seems like the distilled essence of early summer - a scent lush with promise, romance, adventure. 

Which, given Jeff’s current circumstances, is certain proof that nature’s a filthy liar. 

He’s been diverting any awkwardness inside the car by making increasingly unnecessary calls to the office for the whole drive, but his strategy is wearing thin, if his assistant Allison’s tone of irritation is anything to go by. When she finally hangs up on Jeff, maybe more abruptly that most bosses would tolerate, he feels the quietness wrap around him like a scratchy blanket, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He decides to casually rest his elbow out over the window-edge, because, having considered the options, he’s pretty sure that that’s the posture a person who is driving towards a happy event that they have absolutely no conflicted feelings about, would choose. 

Beside him, slumped in the passenger seat, Harry’s tapping his foot on the floor and he’s chewing gum with increasing volume - popping it and stretching it out between his teeth, chomping down loudly and slack-jawed. Jeff keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead because one day Harry will learn that Jeff doesn't reward him with attention for being as deliberately irritating as possible. This approach has not yielded any results over the last five years they’ve known each other, but, if nothing else, Jeff’s a trier.

Harry suddenly sniffs, coughs a little.

Jeff shoots a glance at him, “Allergies kicking up?” 

“Uh, might be a little bit polleny …” 

He’s pointing loosely at the rolling acres of vineyards they’re zipping past, but Jeff’s already rolling up the windows and flicking on the filtered air-con instead. Nature can go to hell.

“We’ll get you some antihistamines if we pass somewhere.”

Jeff feels Harry turn towards him then, hugging a knee to his chest, watching quietly, so he keeps an intense focus on making minor adjustments to the aircon controls, the music settings … Eventually he hears a loud snort of laughter.

“Jeffrey. Has anyone ever told you that when you drive, you look like you’re on some kind of secret, heroic quest to save the planet? It’s like…” Harry sets his face into a determined grimace, clenches his fists in the air, white-knuckling on an imaginary steering wheel to demonstrate. He brings one hand up to his mouth, _“Foxtrot Brava to Mission Control, entering enemy territory, I’ll take it from here. Oh, and tell little Johnny he’s the man of the house now…_ ” 

Jeff shakes his head as Harry hunches forward in his seat, punching invisible buttons in the air with fierce concentration. 

“Harry, has anyone ever told you,” Jeff says, measuredly, “that those sunglasses make you look like the love-child of a grasshopper/alien romance gone wrong?”

“Hey!” Harry drops his mime to whirl around to face Jeff, “My alien grasshopper parents fought hard for their love. Please respect my heritage.”

Harry pushes his stupid sunglasses up into his hair, which has gone all wild and fluffy from the breeze. He grins, all delight and sparkles, and Jeff has to look away and grip tightly onto the steering wheel again. He’s ridiculous, but he’s radiant, just freakin’ glowing. Being in love suits him, Jeff admits to himself. Fucksake. Like the world needs Harry Styles to get even better looking.

“And don’t get defensive about playing with your knobs, Jeffrey. I understand and support you completely.”

“I was just,” Jeff sighs exasperatedly, “trying to _help_ so that the wedding of the century isn’t ruined by your goobers and puffy eyes. ‘Cos there’s nothing classy about that look. Trust me.”

“It’s the wedding of the century? Really?” 

Anyone familiar with the concept of false-modesty would have the sense to conceal the hopeful gleam that’s playing out in Harry’s smile now. Jeff’s immediate urge to keep it there is everything he needs to remember about their current situation.

“No pressure,” Jeff tells him. “I mean, that’s just my expectation. I’m sure everyone else is already bracing themselves for something totally epoch-defining. But, you know, don’t stress.”

“OK.” Harry’s chuckling now, softly, leaning his head back against the headrest. “Got it.”

Jeff nods. Satisfied. This is OK - these last few minutes. He thinks this is the way they’ve always joked around with each other. Or near enough to it anyway. There were only a few weeks of not quite talking, really, before this trip, so it shouldn’t really be this hard to remember. It should be like riding a bicycle, shouldn’t it? Talking to your best friend? Something that starts out a bit fun and wobbly but then, for the rest of your life, it’s simply part of how you maneuver in the world.

There’s a few minutes when that weird quietness sweeps up around them again, prickling at parts of him that Jeff can’t identify precisely enough to scratch.

“So,” he thinks he’s keeping the casual tone going OK, keeping it even and measured, even if it’s all coming out a little higher pitched than he’d prefer, “Ellis won’t make it up today after all then?”

Harry swivels quickly away again, gazing back out the window.

“Yep,” he says quietly, “this meeting with some new investors came up. It’s a big opportunity. He can only get here the night before the ceremony.”

“Right.”

Jeff’s not sure but he thinks Harry’s sitting in his seat a little more stiffly suddenly.

“It’s all for our future together.” Harry says then, still speaking in that low, even tone. “So I don’t mind.”

“Sure, of course… Makes sense.” 

Jeff tries to imagine what it would have been like to spend three, whole, unbroken days with Ellis and his tallness and his suave handsomeness and that glinting, generous alpha charm he exudes so devastatingly. His brain shuts down and suddenly starts playing him the theme to _SpongeBob SquarePants_ which is an unexpected but remarkably effective coping mechanism.

 _Ooooh… who lives in a pineapple in the bottom of the seeeeea?_

“So, just all our gang then.”

“Yeah.”

_Sponge! Bob! Square! Pants!_

“It’s going to be great Harry!” Jeff thumps the steering wheel suddenly. It sort of stings more than he expected. “It’s going to be a total blast! Are you ready for this?! Last days of freedom, my friend! We are going to party so. freakin’. hard!”

He considers for a minute.

“Well, just hard enough to be happy, but not so hard that you’re spending your wedding morning puking into a toilet and wondering why there’s, like, a stuffed mongoose in your room or if that’s a real tattoo on your face or any shit like that.”

Harry’s laughing again. Good.

“A delicate line to be walked there, then.”

“Sure! But we can handle it, right? Hey - is this the turn?! This is it, right?” 

Jeff cannot believe his voice is doing this weird crackly-squeaky thing now. He’s never heard it sound like this before, but he can’t seem to stop it. “Oh wow - there it is Harry! There’s where you’re going to pledge the rest of your life to someone! Right there! Wow.”

He pulls to a stop at the brow of the hill, looking down at the Tuscan-styled guesthouse nestled into the foothills of the vineyard, the blue glint of a pool beyond some pines, rambling roses tumbling over the gates. He feels his heart start thumping frantically.

“It’s so beautiful,” he manages to choke out, “it’s perfect.”

Beside him, Harry is quiet. But when he turns to him, Jeff sees that his lips are slowly turning upwards.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles eventually, glancing another small smile at Jeff, something in it that might just be edging towards smugness. “It is pretty much perfect, isn’t it?”

Jeff inhales deeply. He can do this. He can.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry’s saying, looking back down at the view in front of them. “These last few weeks, it’s been-”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jeff cuts Harry off, “just, you know, work’s been crazy, and I wanted to clear my calendar so I could get these days free and, you know how it goes…”

Harry mutters a low “yeah…I understand. It’s just…” 

_Absorbent and yellow and porous is heeeeee! Sponge! Bob! Square! Pants!_

Jeff thumps the steering wheel again, both hands this time in a staccato drum-roll, so there can be no doubting his enthusiasm. He’s going to make everything OK. He’s going to do this right. 

“Well, we’re here now,” he says, cutting Harry off, “So, let’s get you down there, dude! Let’s get this happening!”

 

There this quite awkward thing that happens when they arrive.

Staff emerge from the lobby to greet them, take Jeff’s car keys, pick up their luggage. Once inside the airy lobby, a concierge sweeps out from behind the desk, reaching out to take Jeff’s hand in a bone-crushing shake.

“Ah, Mr Matthews I assume?! You are so welcome, so delighted to have you! If there’s anything, anything at all we can do to make this special occasion more memorabl-”

“Oh! No!” Jeff stops him as quickly as he can. “I’m not him. I’m not that guy. It’s Harry here. Harry’s marrying Mr Matthews. I’m just a friend. I mean - the best man! I’m the best man.” Fuck, he is, isn’t he? “It’s Harry here you need to…”

Jeff finds his voice betraying him yet again, fading away without his permission, when he sees the appraising look the concierge casts up and down Harry’s body.

Harry seems to take it in too, his toes twisting inwards, his fingers reaching to pinch nervously at his bottom lip. He’s wearing that yellow lace shirt that Jeff thinks is amazing on him, but they all know a good omega doesn’t show this much skin, doesn’t wear jeans that tight, or grow their hair that long, or scrawl tattoos all over their body like they’re inviting attention. At least not an unbonded one. At least not the decent ones.

Harry tilts his head and smiles at the concierge - that smile Jeff knows he uses when he’s trying to be his most winsome - all bashful and sweet and wide-eyed.

“Oh,” the guy says crisply, unmoved. “Very good. Well, you are most welcome. Please let Mr Matthews know our establishment is completely at his disposal …” he tips his head slightly and turns stiffly away.

Jeff’s hand is still smarting from how tightly the guy had pressed against his steering-wheel bruises during their handshake, but it doesn’t stop him making a fist now. He’s not having this. He knows Harry notices these things keenly - the way the concierge’s lips tightened around his revised muted welcome. Jeff wishes they could have just stayed in the city for this whole stupid thing. At least the chances of running into these traditionalists is lessening all the time there.

He rushes after the concierge and taps him sharply on the shoulder, feeling a broiling will for dominance begin to throb through his whole body.

“Listen,” His stance broadened without him even thinking about it and there’s a pulsing urge to growl that he’s swallowing back for the moment. “My friend, Harry? He deserves everything to be perfect. You’ll consult with him and will accommodate his every request - regardless of when his alpha gets here, OK? This is going to be the wedding of the century. And if there is any reason it doesn’t go that way, then you are going to have to deal with me. OK?”

The concierge smiles tightly, and manages to spit out an ingratiating “of course, sir, anything at all…” but Jeff still catches him rolling his eyes as he walks away. 

It’s possible that his little speech might have been a little bit more effective if his voice wasn’t still doing that squeaky thing. 

When he turns back to Harry, feeling heat on his cheeks, he sees him bending, hands on knees, doubled over in laughter.

“Oh Jeffrey! I’ve missed your alpha ass, I really have.”

Harry reaches up like he’s about to drape his arms around Jeff’s shoulders but because he’s still cackling annoyingly, Jeff dodges him, and for his trouble gets a sharp smack whacked into said _alpha ass_. He whirls around but before he can do anything a shriek rings out from across the lobby and Harry’s being pulled from Jeff and engulfed in a flurry of hugs from a bunch of people Jeff recognises as cousins from home. Harry had mentioned Ellis was getting them plane tickets. 

Harry’s suddenly beaming, just like someone getting married in a couple of days should be. And his cousins grips his hands and they all start jumping in circles and squealing and they are a threat to all in their vicinity, and possibly, canine hearing, so Jeff jumps clear of their bouncy exuberance, still feeling the tingling of Harry’s smack to his ass. 

It’s funny really, but it dawns on Jeff - that that’s the first time they’ve touched in weeks.

 

***

“So, you tell him yet?”

The rest of the afternoon had passed fairly quickly - hanging around the lobby to help Harry greet the arrivals, working out people’s charge-points and irons and hair driers, distracting their omega friends from noticing the concierge’s continued sour-face, getting everyone settled with drinks and snacks at the piano bar. The guests eventually drifted up to their rooms to freshen up before dinner - and it was only when he shut the door behind him that Jeff allowed the wave of exhaustion he’d been fighting the whole day to wash over him. 

He had just succumbed to three-minutes of whimpering softly, face-down on his mattress, when there’d been a knock and now Glenne’s painting the nails of her oddly long toes on his bed - giving Jeff a continued opportunity to continue practicing the essential life-skill of not expressing one’s actual feelings.

“Tell who what?”

Glenne pauses to cast a pointedly incredulous expression at him. In her right hand, a nail-polish brush is hovering mid-air, a gloop of cerise liquid pooling larger by the moment.

“OK,” she says eventually. “We’re doing that then.”

She returns her focus to where her goddamn weird feet are touching his sheets and ignoring Jeff when he huffs in exasperation. 

“No, really Jeff, this is absolutely a mature and well-thought-out strategy of yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And could you…”

He goes into the little bathroom and grabs a towel, returning to flap it at her until she lifts her legs and he can place it under her feet. 

“Yeah,” Glenne’s continuing, like nothing occurred. “I think that refusing to communicate and expecting Harry to gain some kind of miraculous insight into everything you’re not saying is just the way to go. Especially now. With such little time left.”

There’s a loud knock on the door before Jeff can respond and then Jamie’s pushing his way into the room, flicking a sheet of paper at each of them.

“Here is the schedule, because apparently there is a freakin’ schedule. And don’t ask me why I’m appointed as information officer suddenly. Harry was looking for you, Jeff. Shouldn’t this type of thing be your job?”

Jeff rubs the knuckle of his thumb across his forehead, casting his eyes along the list of activities planned for the next couple of days. There’s horse-riding and karaoke and cup-cake decorating and a camp-fire and something called pimp your prosecco and yeah … all this is probably something the best man should have helped set up. But something had shifted in those few frozen moments when Harry, fresh from his Paris trip with Ellis, brandished his new diamond ring at Jeff, and Jeff had stood in silence, blinking, for maybe a split second too long.

They’d gone on to act out all the conventional responses to an engagement announcement - the hugs and the black-slaps and the _I can’t believe its_ and the _of course, I’d be honoured_ but something had pivoted at that moment. Something hollow reverberated in the air that hasn’t quite stopped echoing yet.

“I’m slightly disappointed there’s no shooting,” Jamie is saying, frowning at the schedule, “Feels like a duck shooting-kinda place, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a fucking vineyard, Jamie.” Glenne returns her focus to her polish, “My belief is - and granted I’m no expert here - but ducks don’t hang out in vineyards.”

Jamie’s on Jeff’s bed now too - also splaying his bare feet onto his covers. His soles look slightly blackened, like he’s been walking around outside barefoot. Jeff’s friends are unholy savages.

“Did you see Harry’s little omega friend Fionn is here? With his Dad as his escort? It’s so retro it’s fucking adorable, seriously.”

“James…”

“No I mean it! I think it’s cute! When do you even see that anymore?”

Glenne rolls her eyes, twisting closed the bottle of her varnish, “Jamie - you see it literally everywhere outside of our very tiny, very liberal social circle. Get out into the actual world, dude!”

“I’m a man of the world Glenne, fuck you!” Jamie laughs. “And if you start up on the omega-equality stuff now, I’m going to start screaming. And not in a very manly way. Just be honest and admit, _alpha_ , that you see an adorable little omega like that and you want to grab him and muss him up a bit.”

“I do not! Because I don’t indulge in objectifying and demeaning-”

“I bet he’s not even on inhibitors - those traditional types aren’t into all that hormone regulation. Working up their heats for the perfect alpha. Can you imagine how wild they get?! Fuck, can you even- guh- Qww!”

Glenne is violently walloping a pillow into Jamie now with a viciousness that isn’t even slightly surprising Jeff.

“May I REMIND you -” Glenne delivers a blow with each point - “That in 39 states in this country unbonded omegas are not permitted to bear a firearm, register a business, marry another omega, oh and in 40, 40 states! are not permitted have sole custody of children, even if they have given birth to them! So when all that gets sorted, maybe we can get to work on your degrading sexual fantasies…”

James, who had taken cover on the floor, pops his head over the mattress.

“Lost you at the firearms bit, sorry. You want armed omegas now? Weren’t you marching for gun control last month?” Jamie scrunches his nose up at Glenne. “And can you stop beating me up, please, _alpha_. I think we’re both getting a bit too into it, and that’s gonna upset Jeff.”

Jeff had managed to slip a painkiller while they argued. It feels like being back in college suddenly - everyone hanging around his dorm room, debating political issues they have no actual stake in, a party planned for later, a lurking and unyielding anxiety pounding through his veins.

“Come on,” he tells them, “can we go get this dinner over with?”

 

***

Glenne and Jamie are still talking about Fionn while they all wander through in the dining room to find their table a little while later.

“He’s just so … I don’t know … demure, isn’t he?” Jamie’s saying, casting an eye over to where Fionn’s already seated, his father at his side. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it! That neat little haircut and the way he’s all buttoned up and, oh look! That little head-dip so he doesn’t make eye contact with strangers? It makes me crazy, seriously.”

Glenne snorts at him. “He’ll never go for a beta, anyway, Jamie, so just forget it. All that perfectly submissive shit? Omegas like him always end up matched by their parents with some high status alpha, you know? Like, someone with an annual dividend from a family inheritance, someone with, like, political connections and overseas properties. You know the type.”

“Oh, so, Jeff then,” Jamie says casually, sliding into a chair.

They both snigger and Jeff rolls his eyes instead of arguing with them. It’s total bull, of course. Jeff doesn’t have a family inheritance, or any of the rest of it, just a father with a hugely successful business and a determination that his children learn the value of hard work and to never get anything handed to them, unearned, on a silver platter. Jeff’s only really opened up about it with Harry - what it felt like to have the most loving and supportive parents in the world, who simultaneously stress him to fuck with their impossibly high expectations. 

It was stupid, he knew. It was the perfect example of a first world problem, and Jeff felt guilty moaning at him when he thought about all the shit Harry regularly dealt with. But Harry hadn’t ever made him feel bad for complaining. Just let him talk. Just … was a friend. His best friend…

 

“Oh hey! You’re here!!”

Harry appears suddenly at Jeff’s elbow and pulls him into an hug so tightly engulfing that it knocks them into the table beside them, the glass-wear tinkling as Glenne and Jamie scramble to grasp anything about to topple. 

Harry’s wearing something silky. Jeff feels it’s cool smoothness as he draws his arms around him, and then the warmth of Harry’s body seeps through the material, the firm muscles of his long back shifting beneath Jeff’s palms. It seems ages since they’ve done this, since Jeff allowed himself to be smothered by Harry and yielded to whatever it was that made the gesture feel like coming home. Harry tightens his embrace when he realises that Jeff’s not going anywhere this time, and buries his face into Jeff’s shoulder, his hair tickling against Jeff’s face. 

Jeff thinks that Harry smells different from usual, somehow, even though he’s wearing his usual scent - that Tom Ford cologne he gives him every birthday. But underneath it, there’s something unfamiliar, something new.

Jeff has this crazy notion then, that it’s some trace of Ellis lingering on Harry’s skin, and can’t help wriggling out of his grip. Is that something that happens? Like the way people and their pets end up looking like each other? Do couples share a scent after a while?

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it. You seemed tired maybe, earlier.” Harry lingers close even after Jeff has let him go.

He flicks his hair back, his expression a mixture of relief and concern as he peers into Jeff’s face, trying to catch his eyes. 

“Miss dinner?” Jamie pipes up beside them, when Jeff doesn’t answer straight away, a strike of guilt keeping him silent, “like Jeff would put this carefully curated Dad-bod of his at risk like that?”

Jeff can’t help frowning down to appraise his own body. This is uncalled for. He works out. “I don’t have a Dad-bod, Jamie, fuck you!”

Harry grins and reaches out to fondle at Jeff’s stomach but Jeff heads him off at the pass, grabbing his wrist and twisting away from his groping. He’s maybe slightly too forceful about it because he ends up shoving Harry against the table again, and this time the empty wine glasses do fall over. Once they’ve righted everything, Jeff flings himself into his chair, taking a huge gulp of water and ignoring Glenne’s raised eyebrows.

Harry sits with them, asking if it’s OK first, which again brings a pang of guilt to Jeff’s chest, since it’s more his usual style to just fling himself into your lap without waiting for permission. At least Glenne and Jamie are there, finding new opportunities to snipe merrily at each other while the waiters circulate, and Harry’s mum and sister join them soon after. So as long as Jeff keeps focused on grinning and laughing along with the group chat, everything’s cool.

Or at least it would be, if Harry didn’t keep looking searchingly at him every time he sinks into momentary quietness. Which ends up meaning that every time Jeff finds himself drifting, and he feels Harry’s attention descend on him, he has to ramp up the _bonhomie_ in response, laugh a bit more boomingly, slap his thighs with more vigor. 

He feels like his spleen’s about to burst.

 

***

If Jeff’s slobbery drunk by the end of the night, it’s fucking Ellis’ fault and no one else’s. 

Jeff would share this information with someone were it not for the fact that he’s on his own, gripping the side of the bar like he’s Rose on that door, while everyone else is singing and dancing around Clare, who has taken charge at the piano. 

“There is not one single ONE of those people who can dance, to ANY fucking standard,” Jeff resolutely informs the barman, thumbing back at them over his shoulder. The barman isn’t there though, which Jeff remembers now. He thinks he might have said something about cutting him off, before, but there are still lots of half-full bottles champagne everywhere - thank you fucking Ellis! - so Jeff’s still finding it easy enough to keep a full glass in his hand.

Fucking Ellis.

They hadn’t even started dinner when this fucking, like, fucking procession of waiters, in white. fucking. gloves come streaming in like they’re … Jeff doesn’t know what … and they were all carrying bottles of champagne at this ridiculous dainty angle and then he, HE! JEFFREY!! gets presented with this small box and this envelope and fucking Serge the Concierge or whatever his name is, is there, telling him in front of everyone’s staring faces that Mr Matthews kindly requests the best man to read the enclosed card and it was just … just … horrible. And stupid. And not classy at all. Jeff nods quietly at his chest, sure of that one.

He’d still done it though, because everyone was looking at him. He’d read out this awful fucking note from fucking Ellis, all about how he wanted everyone to know how deeply he was missing being with them tonight, and how this round of drinks (”round of drinks” !!! It was, like, the world’s remaining supply of _1988 Veuve Clicquot_!) was his small gesture to let them know he was thinking of them, and of his beloved, and then, fucking THEN! Jeff had to present Harry with the fucking box which, apparently, contained a symbol of the endlessness of fucking Ellis’ fucking love, and Harry had opened it and pulled out this cheap fucking bangle. Except because it was from fucking Ellis it’s apparently made of platinum or congealed unicorn tears or something and was chosen because it was rare and pure and enduring. And everyone went awwww and clapped, and Harry had just beamed so bright that Jeff had no choice but to whoop! And then make his own toast to Harry and fucking Ellis and everyone stood and he THINKS someone live-streamed it on their fucking Instagram for Ellis to see which is all he fucking needs.

Jeff knocked back his glass of champagne in one gulp after the toast. And then just … kept on drinking.

He leans his back to the bar now, propping his elbows behind him. This is good, gives him leverage plus a view. ‘Cos he needs to keep an eye on things, being the best man and all. That is his job and his job alone and if he’s doing this, he’s doing this right.

Gemma’s being dramatic with the swirling expanse of her skirt, like a flamenco dancer, to _“Get Your Rocks Off”_ so it doesn’t seem quite appropriate, but then again, close to her, Tom is body-rolling beside Fionn, who is headbanging while his Dad plays air guitar, and beside them, Jamie is fucking _vogueing_ and the rest of the L.A. gang are punching their fists at the ceiling and everyone’s just ROARING out the lyrics. Jeff starts laughing. They’re all ridiculous, every one of them. He loves them. He loves that Harry cultivated this group of ridiculous people, made them all into friends, not just with him, but with each other - never any choice in it. Made it OK for all of them to expose their stupidest, funniest, rawest selves to each other. It’s incredible and brilliant.

The crowd parts and Harry’s there, doing that wild flailing thing that gets them kicked out of Clubs sometimes. He’s singing and laughing too.

Fucking dimples.

He looks up and sees Jeff watching, his smile instantly brightening. Jeff tips his glass at him and Harry makes fingers guns at him in response.

Fucking finger-guns.

“You are the worst one!” Jeff calls to him, and Harry scrunches up his face in confusion, putting a hand behind his ear to indicate he hadn’t heard.

“You are-” Jeff starts again and then realises it’s pointless and shuts himself up, shaking his head and laughing at the floor. He is the worst one. He really is.

When he looks up again, Harry’s there, right in front of him. One of Jeff’s elbows slips from the bar in surprise and he has to flail a little himself then to get upright, but he turns the motion into a bit of a bop, wheeley-fists in the air, ‘cos he’s smooth like that. He thinks he gets away with it, even if Harry is laughing harder, his eyes squinted shut.

“Jeffrey, are you wasted?”

Harry’s got this school-marmish thing going on now, his hand on his hip. He is hilarious, Jeff thinks, snickering in guilty admission. 

Harry’s so funny. It’s what he’s always loved the most about him. That, and his quiet kindness. And also, his talent and bravery - the way he’s got his own little business going with these creativity workshops in schools and rehab centres and that’s, like, gutsy, going out on your own like that. Especially when you’re an omega and financing can be hard and some people don’t respect you as much as you deserve. And actually, that’s something Jeff loves about him too now he thinks about it. He fucking loves that Harry’s an unconventional, unapologetic omega, and isn’t all buttoned up like Fionn, is so himself and shines so bright and doesn’t let anyone put him in a box of what’s expected and Jeff’s not sure he’s ever told him that, actually. And he’s beautiful, of course. He is so stomach-churningly beautiful Jeff can hardly bear to look at him sometimes. Maybe he should tell him. He should tell him everything. Glenne’s been right, all this time. 

“Harry,” Jeff says, reaching to squeeze a hand into his shoulder, “I love you so much, I really, really do.”

Harry’s dimples reappear and he snickers.

“OK! Thank you! I love you too. Maybe we should think about getting you to bed now.”

Jeff blinks. That was easier than he’d ever imagined.

Glenne’s suddenly on the other side of him now, bitching about something, which is not unusual.

“Oh Jeff, seriously? How’d you get this drunk?”

“He didn’t eat much at dinner,” Harry’s telling her, taking Jeff’s arm and looping it over his shoulder. “Think I better get him upstairs.”

“'Cos I have NOT got a Dad-bod,” Jeff mumbles.

“No, you don’t,” Harry is telling him, agreeably, because he is a fucking true friend and a delight and fucking hell Jeff loves him so fucking much. 

But when Jeff grabs at Harry’s hand that’s hovering over his shoulder he sees he’s still wearing that bracelet from Ellis.

“This thing looks like a fucking handcuff!” 

And oops, maybe that was a sentiment he should have kept inside his head, because Glenne’s frowning very seriously now. But Jeff can explain, he can smooth things over ‘cos of his expertise in being smooth. 

“No, no,” he leans into Harry, patting on his chest, “’s OK. Like, what I mean is … it’s a symbol of fucking Ellis’ like, everlasting, like desire to, like, keep you forever, all locked up inside his love. Like a prison of his love. Like, you know, some kinda endless no-parole situation, that kinda thing, and actually-”

“Oh God,” Glenne’s saying and reaching for Jeff’s other arm, “Harry, I can deal with him. Let me…” 

But Jeff flaps off her reaching fingers until she gives up.

“It’s OK,” Harry says, and his breath puffs on Jeff’s neck when he speaks and makes Jeff go all goose-bumpy. “I got it.”

“Jeff,” Glenne is suddenly whispering urgently into his ear, his chin held between her pinching fingers so he’s facing her directly, “Listen to me. Now is not the time, OK? You can’t do it like this.”

He doesn’t know what she’s talking about but he gives her a thumbs up and a wink, and then there are people waving at them from the dance area as Harry maneuvers through them towards the door, shaking off offers of assistance. Jeff waves cheerily back at the bouncing bunch of idiots. They are all going to be so embarrassed tomorrow.

“D’you really think I’ve not got a Dad-bod?” Jeff double-checks on this because it is important to know. They’re making their way along the longest fucking corridor in the northern hemisphere which is a totally ill-thought-out design feature. This resort is very strange, he’s definitely never coming back. Even if they get ducks.

“Jeff,” Harry’s telling him, “even if you did, Dad-bods are super-sexy so it’s all good.”

“Harry….” Jeff hears himself whining in exasperation. Why is Harry like this? What is it? Why can’t he just, like, be, fucking, like, whatever, you know? “Do I or don’t I?”

He’s definitely never moving again until he gets this issue sorted. That’s how he got where he is in life. Fucking determination, that’s how. 

Harry doesn’t seem to mind because he’s stopped too. After a moment, he turns to face Jeff and places his two hands on Jeff’s shoulders and stares straight into his eyes, saying slowly and deliberately, “Jeffrey, I swear on all that’s holy, I think your body is smokin’ hot.”

And oh. Jeff blinks, trying to focus.

Harry’s in front of him, still, with a weird little half-smile on his face, his eyes fixed on Jeff’s.

It’s OK though. It’s fine. This is normal. This is just what Harry does. Harry’s weird. Everyone knows that. He never got the memo on social norms surrounding eye-contact.

Jeff laughs, like he knows now he was supposed to, dips out from under the weight of Harry’s hands, and lurches forward down this endless corridor like Shackleton across the Antarctic ‘cos that’s what heroes with smokin’ bods do.

 

Jeff’s not sure how long it took them but it was probably at least another three weeks until they make it to his bedroom, and it was seriously getting urgent because he had to pee so bad that he dashed to the bathroom the second he got inside.

He’s splashing water on his face, after, trying to avoid looking in the mirror over the sink because he knows it won’t be good, but then he forgets and blinks at his reflection a few times until it comes into some kind of hazy focus. He’s pale and red-eyed and blotchy which is bad and makes him frown, making matters worse, and when he dips his chin he ends up with six of them. Fucking Ellis has a great chin - like it’s chiseled out of rock. And this high, imperious forehead. He’s all structured angles and blue-eyed intensity and his grey hair is that salt-and-pepper shade that is universally upheld as the epitome of silver-fox sexiness.

Jeff takes a step back to fully appraise himself. He’s got ordinary mono-colour hair and his chin looks more like melted wax than chiseled rock and really, it’s no wonder Harry has has only ever thought of him as a friend. 

He pulls up his shirt, just to check. He turns sideways, sucks in, and fuck yeah, that’s pretty fucking flat. That’s got to count for something. He pats his palm against his abs, nice and firm, and is slightly startled when he hears a knocking sound. 

“Jeff?” Harry’s voice is muffled, on the other side of the door, like he’s pressed his whole face into the wood, “you OK in there? Still conscious?”

And shit. Jeff stares back into the mirror. It’s just all so disappointing. He drops his shirt and puts his hands on the edge of the sink and slumps, his head hanging forward - which was a risky move, he realises too late, because the world tilts sideways and keeps spinning.

What’s he doing, though? What’s he doing? He came here for Harry, to help him, to make sure feels happy and loved, that he knows for ever and ever that Jeff’s got his back. He had silently resolved that all that in the car this morning on the way to pick up Harry. But instead, here it is, the first night and he’s forcing Harry to take care of his plain, drunk, six-chinned friend instead of bad-dancing with his fellow-countrymen like he should be. 

Jeff looks up and points at his reflection and whispers firmly to it - “pull your socks up” - before staggering back through the bathroom door into the main bedroom.

Harry’s pulled back the covers on his bed and is at his elbow out of nowhere, guiding him towards the expanse of white cotton.

“’m sorry, Harry,” Jeff tells him.

“For what?” Harry asks, gently pushing him back until he’s sitting on the mattress and then kneeling in front of him, pulling Jeff’s shoes off for him.

“You should … be at your party … let’s go back to your party,” Jeff manages to mumble, before falling backwards into the softness. “We can daaance… ” It gets quite swirly after that and he has to wriggle upwards to put his head on a pillow. The elevation makes things a little bit steadier, slightly.

“Nah, it’s OK,” Harry murmurs to him, putting a glass of water on the bedside locker, and then, oh fuck, he’s unbuttoning Jeff’s jeans, wrestling them over his hips, tugging them further down his legs.

“Harry!” Jeff grumbles, fumbling to hold his underwear in place, “’s like, private.”

Harry just laughs at him. “Like we’ve got any secrets.”

But they do, Jeff thinks. They’ve always had a secret. A secret that took place years ago on a night a little like this one, in the unsteady, hazy hours after a party - touches in the dark, an exquisite, wanton, beautiful secret that Harry quickly made clear was never, never to be repeated.

But shhhh … Jeff tells his brain. ‘S not for thinking about. He and his brain reached an agreement about that ages ago. ‘Cos neither of them could bear to risk doing anything that might get in the way of keeping Harry as his best friend. His bestest, bestest bro.

“Just want for you to be happy,” Jeff mutters.

Then Harry’s there, his head on the pillow beside Jeff’s. It’s too close, he’s got two faces, at least, at this distance, and both of them are floating off in different directions.

Jeff squeezes shut his eyes and groans.

“Aw, Jeffrey, it’s OK,” Harry whispers, close, he’s so close, he’s so warm and soft, “you’re OK,” and then his gentle fingertips are stroking along Jeff’s forehead, pushing his hair back, scratching briefly into his scalp.

“That’s nice,” Jeff manages to whisper. “Be OK in a minute.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back, “it’s all going to be OK.” 

“And you’ll be happy… ‘s like … everything. Everything I want. Just you … happy.”

Harry doesn’t answer but Jeff feels him shift closer, pressing his body along the length of Jeff’s side. He slides a foot between Jeff’s ankles. He’s left his socks on, ‘cos he knows and he’s good and treats people who hate feet with kindness. Jeff feels himself sink deeper. It’s all so comfy and sweetly soft. 

He thinks it’s a while later. There seems to be some kind of blank interlude. But then there’s the plush, damp press of Harry’s lips against Jeff’s cheek. And it happens again, light and gently pillowy. And Jeff feels Harry’s breath ghost against his skin, feels his nose press against his cheek, as Harry lingers close before drawing back and taking a long, slow breath.

Jeff rolls his head towards Harry, eyes still closed. He feels so heavy and uncertain. His eyelids are leaden, won’t raise no matter how hard he tries. Harry’s finger tips are tracing along the side of Jeff’s face now and Jeff’s body has just melted, flat into the mattress. He’s helpless, prone in this treacly atmosphere. It’s weird. He’s so tired. It’s sorta lovely.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry’s whispering so quietly Jeff’s only sure he’s speaking when he feels the pressure of his lips moving against his skin when Harry comes back to nuzzle close. “Promise you’ll always be here.”

Jeff tries to speak but he only manages a questioning grunt from somewhere at the back of his throat.

He manages to raise his hand, somehow. Drifts it through the dense air until it’s connecting with the back of Harry’s head, and then he’s caressing the strands of his hair, feeling its silky coolness slipping through his fingers.

He feels Harry shift beside him again, rising on one elbow and Jeff’s hand slips through emptiness for a moment until it finds its way back to Harry’s face, cupping it gently. The curve of Harry’s cheekbone fits so perfectly against Jeff’s palm he could cry.

He still can’t open his eyes, everything’s still so dark and heavy and vaguely dense. He draws his thumb gently along Harry’s cheek. It’s so, so soft, so smooth even when he gets to those sparse little hairs around his chin. Then the flesh of his thumb is connecting with Harry’s bottom lip and that’s so so soft he absently strokes along its plump suppleness, feels a rush of his breath when Harry giggles lightly. He nips at him. And, oh, then, oh! Harry leans over to bite again and this time his lips tighten around Jeff’s thumb and he sucks it into the heat of his mouth, his tongue running along its length, his breath coming in a rush of heat over Jeff’s skin.

Jeff jerks his hand back, cracks open his eyes and all there is is Harry’s face, right there close to him, lips parted, a glimmer of light shining beneath his half-closed eyelids. He’s so fucking beautiful.

Jeff looks back at him, looks at Harry looking at him. It’s like they’re studying each other, two creatures trying to puzzle something out in a blank universe. 

Jeff brings his thumb back to his own lips, unconsciously drawing it over and back as he stares, trying to make his brain work. Harry’s eyes follow the movement, and suddenly, oh, oh!, Harry’s softly kissing Jeff’s mouth - a warm, gentle pressure, and Jeff can’t do anything except kiss back, dig his fingers into the tangle he’s made of Harry’s hair, still unable to open his eyes, but he’s parting his lips and there’s a silky touch of Harry’s tongue against his and now his whole body’s thrumming with a low, darkly intensifying yearning that’s heating the blood in his veins, and giving him the power to move, at last, and he’s holding Harry now. He feels his heart pound. He’s got Harry inside his arms and they’re rolling gently over the mattress and Harry’s inside Jeff’s arms, he’s inside his arms, and he’s making these quiet little noises as they press more firmly into each other, their bodies so mixed up and entangled and then Harry shifts again, rolling them back and he’s leaning over Jeff, holding his face between his two hands and is kissing him with this cresting intensity and Jeff can’t ever remember feeling like this - so immaterial and floaty, everything aloft in nothingness except for Harry, the fervent pressure of him, his fingers, his lips, his taste.

But then, in the midst of all the haziness - something obdurate. Something uncomfortable and hard and cold presses against Jeff’s chin.

Jeff starts, because the realisation of what it is dawns on him, and he jerks to pull Harry’s hand away from his face and opens his eyes, blinking in the dark. 

The bracelet Ellis gave Harry is glinting in the darkness, a silvery circle around Harry’s wrist, and it chases all the dreaminess away and Jeff’s back to feeling drunk and dizzy and unfocused.

“What’s happening?” he manages to murmur, his voice thick with sleep and confusion, “What’s going on?”

“It’s OK,” Harry whispers. He seems very far away, “It was just a little kiss. Just a kiss. You won’t remember in the morning.”

Jeff frowns, feels the tug of sleep pulling him back into softness again, his body sinking again. “I’m gonna remember,” he murmurs, sure of it.

“Don’t.” 

And then he feels the mattress dip, like Harry’s moved away to sit upright. He hears him sigh. 

Jeff reaches blindly for him, his eyelids uncooperative again, glued shut.

“Wait,” he manages to murmur, “Stay.” 

Because he can’t let him go now. There’s this puzzle and it’s hard to figure out but if he can sleep a bit, then maybe he’ll manage it OK. If he can just rest a bit. He finds Harry’s arm and tugs until he yields and allows Jeff to pull him back down, lets him drape it’s weight across his chest.

He’s sure there’s something important that needs to happen now, something that needs to be said, maybe. Everything’s too bleary though, and dimly blank, and still swirling in an unsettling way. Jeff is weakly fighting his way through some kind of thick, nebulous atmosphere, but it’s hopeless, and the dark haze sweeps him up and he’s gone. Into the dark.

He’s aware that at some point in the night he finds Harry curled around him, his chin pressing into Jeff’s shoulder, their legs still entwined, his fingers still in a loose grip inside Jeff’s. He’s sniffling quietly - that’s what must have woken him - and all Jeff can remember is that his brain screams the word - antihistamines - at him, like if it’s loud enough about it then he’ll remember in the morning.

But when he wakes properly in the early dawn, feeling fully horrible - his tongue thickened and his head pounding, Jeff is definitely alone, rumpled and sick and with a small damp patch on the sleeve of his t-shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

**_5 years earlier …_ **

The pool-house at Jeff’s parents’ place is bigger than the apartment Harry has been sharing for the last 6 months with three other overseas students, and smells significantly better. It also has Jeff in it now, with a sheepish little expression on his face, alone with Harry, late after the party. So it’s got that going for it too.

Harry suddenly feels a rush of giddy happiness surge through him. This happens sometimes when he thinks about his new life in America where everything seems sunnier and freer and open with endless possibility. His smile is so wide it’s actually hurting his jaw, and it is stubbornly refusing to be subdued. But when Jeff glances over from where he’s faffing with used towels and sees what Harry’s face is doing, he just grins back, his cheeks going pink, and that’s just so perfect Harry’s heart explodes and splurts unrestrained joy all over the gaff, and his body gives up, flopping backwards onto the bed.

“Thank you for having me at your pool party,” Harry sighs at the ceiling, “It was my first pool party ever. It was really fun.”

Jeff’s laugh sets something tingling down Harry’s spine. But that’s nothing new. Jeff’s made parts of him tingle right from their first meeting - when Jamie, his internship boss, brought Harry to meet his friend in marketing who had agreed to give Harry advice on his business idea. When they met and Jeff talked through Harry’s plan with an astonishing seriousness - all frowny and intensely focused - Harry got so turned on he could barely sit still in his seat.

They started to meet up a bit, and now, even though it’s only been a few weeks, Harry’s at a party in Jeff’s parents’ mansion of a house, everyone else gone home early, so life is beautiful and full of blessings. Harry stretches out his limbs over the cool sheets and wriggles a little into the softness. Everything just feels delightful.

“It wasn’t a pool party,” Jeff’s telling Harry. “At least it wasn’t until you took off your clothes. It was just a party. Not even. Just a little get-together. My parents do something like this most weekends, really.”

“But … there was a pool!”

Harry bites his lip. He’ll never get the rules here. America in general is weird - with the enforced math every time you try to buy something, and the disconcerting door gaps in public restrooms, and the fact that everyone’s participating in a mass delusion that their chocolate isn’t an insult to the term. But this part of America - the fanciest part of L.A - he’ll never fathom. People have all these amazing sports cars and gigantic pools and gardens with fruit trees but all that good stuff seems to be just for looking at, like precious pieces of art that shouldn’t be touched. Harry’s not quite sure how he ended up mixing in this social circle, but now he’s here, he feels it is his duty to make sure everyone fully appreciates their circumstances in life.

“Well, thank you for having me at your beside-the-pool not-party. I had a very nice time.”

Jeff comes closer, sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Harry’s heart thumps and he bites his lip again. He decided earlier in the evening that tonight is the night he’d quite like to seduce Jeff. But he feels like he’s got to stay very quiet and calm now, in case Jeff scares easy, like a baby deer.

“Well, thank you,” Jeff’s saying, “for livening up a pretty dull little gathering. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Dad blush before.”

Harry’s not sure if this is a good thing or not. Sometimes people get mad at him for flirting with their Dads. Which is a bit annoying when they continue to parade their Dads in front of him they way they do. 

“Lots of other people took their clothes off too,” Harry points out.

“Did they really Harry? Or were their clothes, you know, _taken_ from them?”

Harry laughs guiltily, feels himself blush, and slaps his hand over his face to hide it. He peeps through his fingers at Jeff, who is still smiling at him in a way that is making Harry feel very hot all over. 

He props himself up on one elbow then, glancing at Jeff and then down at the sheets again. He’s not not sure why he’s nervous. He’s never really had to work at seducing people normally. It’s usually been a simple matter of holding eye contact and smiling, that usually does the trick. But it’s a bit different with Jeff. It sorta feels like he might be out of Harry’s league. He’s the kind of person who just knows the right thing to do all the time, is kind to people in a useful way - fixing problems and giving practical advice, not just flirting with them and hoping that’ll cheer them up, like the way Harry does it. 

There’s so much Harry likes about Jeff - he gives a first impression of being very reserved but then takes so little persuasion to go a bit mad and have a laugh. And the last time they met up, Jeff had opened up about how much he stresses about screwing up in work and ruining his career before it even gets started, and how badly he wants to prove himself, not to let his parents down when they’ve given him so much. Harry thinks it’s nice that he could admit to all that and not be all arrogant and domineering like so many alphas are. It's very sweet that his family are so important to him. 

But even though Jeff seems to be interested Harry - genuinely concerned that he’s doing well, making friends here, eating right - Harry’s not sure if Jeff’s just being nice to him, like he’s a project or something, or if … if it might be something else.

Because Harry would quite like the something else. 

Although, not if it ends up the way these things usually go for him - being told that he’s either too intense and clingy or else that he’s too distracted and unengaged, and either way he’s annoying, and not someone people seem to want to hang onto. It’s been confusing. And sometimes a little sad. But Harry just knows, above everything else, that he really, really, really likes Jeff. And he wants him to like him back just as much, and to stick around so they can keep hanging out together, for a long, long time. And, obviously, do sexy things together for a good portion of that time.

Harry shakes himself into a new resolve. He’s good at this. He is.

He leans forward, right into Jeff’s space, reaching a finger out to touch his shirt - “Um, you’re missing a button.” He wriggles his finger into the empty buttonhole until he gets to feel the heat of Jeff’s skin. 

“And who’s fault is that?” 

But Jeff’s voice is gruff and slightly shaky, and the confirmation that Harry’s able to affect him like this, well, Harry can’t help smirking a little. 

“Mine, I guess,” Harry says quietly but his voice has gone a bit raspy too. Good. He sounds good. He should keep talking. “Sorry. Sorta wanted to see you without clothes on, I suppose.”

He opens the top button of Jeff’s shirt, and slips his hand inside, placing it flat against his skin over his heart. He darts a glance up at Jeff’s eyes, and this time, he doesn’t look away. 

Jeff’s looking a little awed, to Harry’s surprise, like he can’t believe this is happening. His lips have parted and he’s gazing back at Harry, pupils wide and dark. Harry can feel his heartbeat quickening under his palm and it all almost stops Harry in his tracks because he’s not sure he’s ever managed to _awe_ anybody before. Jeff is … he’s the first alpha who’s ever looked at Harry like that, like he’s some kind of prize he didn’t expect to win.

Harry blinks, reminds himself, that tonight’s agenda has one item only - seduction.

“I think you looked lovely …” he says, trailing his hand down along the remaining buttons, deftly popping one after another. “And it would be quite cool to look some more.”

He hears Jeff inhale sharply when Harry parts the open front of his shirt and runs his fingers over his left nipple, feeling it perk up in response to his touch. He looks back up into Jeff’s darkened eyes.

“But,” Harry’s heart pounds in sudden panic because, other than the nipple, Jeff hasn’t moved, so he quickly pulls Jeff’s shirt closed again, “um, only if you want? If you want, like … me …”

“Harry,” Jeff laughs, and he takes a firm grip of Harry’s wrists, leaning closer to draw them behind Harry’s back, “you are a fucking menace, you know that? I know you know that.”

And as Harry opens his mouth to protest, Jeff pulls him in close, his wrists still tight in his grip and kisses him quite decisively and oh fuck, Harry just melts.

 

Sex with Jeff is amazing. Harry sorta figured it would be, but _holy shit_. 

They get naked so quickly he’s not sure their clothes will survive to tell the tale, and once Jeff’s hands have roamed low enough to feel how wet Harry already is, he pushes Harry flat into the mattress, kisses down his chest and stomach, down, down until his tongue is working its way over the line of hair south of Harry’s navel, and, in an unexpected turn of events that draws a ragged gasp from Harry, suddenly reaches to press his knees wide open and slip his fingers deep inside him, setting off fireworks and making Harry slap a pillow over his face to yelp into.

Jeff doesn’t let that situation go on too long, pulling back both the pillow and his fingers, and moving over Harry’s body again to kiss his lips, agonizingly softly, his fingers combing into Harry’s hair, and asking him in a rough whisper if he’s OK, which … fuck … Harry can smell his own slick from Jeff’s hands beside his face, and he should probably be embarrassed by the way that’s affecting him but he can only moan a - _God yes, yes_ \- as his hips jerk into Jeff’s stomach, his dick throbbing more painfully with each thrust. But it’s a very, very, pleasurable pain and it’s bringing goosebumps out all over Harry’s skin and he bites savagely at Jeff’s shoulder because someone’s got to get this show on the road soon or he’s going to combust and burn this very fragrant pool house to the ground.

Jeff laughs and backs off from Harry’s nipping teeth, gets onto his knees on the mattress between Harry’s legs. He’s leveraging one of Harry’s legs over his shoulder, shuffling closer, his expression that frowny concentrated one that Harry loves and he can’t help it - he giggles with the excitement of it all happening, and Jeff looks up at his face, confused for a split second but then laughs a breathless “Oh Harry …” and grins before focusing on lining up with Harry’s hole and then pushes inside and that shuts them both up as they groan together with heat of it shuddering through them.

Jeff leans down to kiss him, folding Harry in a way that brings him in deeper and Harry’s just keening with how good it feels and then Jeff starts to thrust and _god bless America_ , he’s hitting it just right and Harry’s seeing stars, pulsars, galaxies. Jeff’s keeping a hand behind Harry’s knee, keeping him pulled wide open to meet each thrust and then he grips Harry’s wrist again and presses it into the mattress beside his head, and Harry can’t really move into any other position unless Jeff re-arranges him and it is the Hottest. Thing. Ever.

Until later on. After they both come and laugh into each other mouths and kiss and roll around a bit and get turned on again. Then Harry’s sitting in Jeff’s lap, and he’s made Jeff grip onto the headboard behind him, and he’s not allowed to let go, and Harry’s rolling his hips back to fuck himself into a shaking mess, and this time he’s doing all the work, and Jeff’s all helpless and gasping underneath him, and Harry’s totally in charge, and then that’s the hottest thing ever.

“D’you … want to … to knot?” Harry manages to pant, suddenly yearning for it. He slows, sliding down smoothly onto Jeff’s dick until he’s in as deep as Harry can manage, and he just holds himself there, thighs quivering with the effort, and he closes his eyes and tries to imagine Jeff swelling up now, inside him, locking them tightly together so they’re joined, like one, bonded …

“Can’t … got the implant,” Jeff murmurs breathlessly, “but I could …” and he releases one hand from its grip on the headboard to reach around to circle his fingertips over Harry’s hole, where he’s leaking slick and stretched tight around Jeff. But Harry doesn’t want his finger in there too, that’s not it, and he opens his eyes again to pull Jeff’s hand back to where it’s supposed to be, and he jolts himself up and down again with a new focus.

“You just hold on tight there, Jeffrey, like I told you.” Harry tells him, “this might be a rocky ride.”

After Jeff comes, he suddenly revives and tips Harry back on the the mattress and grips Harry’s ankles and pulls. He gets to his knees on the floor at the edge of the mattress between Harry’s legs and sucks Harry’s now aching dick into his warm, soft mouth, then dips to lick over his balls and his taint and then to lap around his rim, coming back to suck his dick …. And Harry just props his leg back over Jeff’s shoulder and takes a tight grip of Jeff’s hair and lets him work him up into the most overwhelming orgasm of his life.

And as the aftershocks shudder through him, he lays back, catching his breath, trying to blink everything back into focus and sees Jeff still kneeling, his chin propped on Harry’s knee, grinning up at him, and Harry laughs weakly, because now that, _that_ was the hottest thing ever.

When he rolls his head to the side, he sees though the window that the sky is lightening to a pale grey.

“Jeff,” he croaks, in wonder, “it’s morning. We’ve been having sex all night long.”

“Yeah,” Jeff crawls up and collapses beside him, nuzzling into Harry’s neck. “Think I could go again though. Just gimme coupla secs.”

Harry snorts and runs his hand down the side of Jeff’s face.

“We’ll die. If we fuck any more, we’ll just die.”

“’Sokay. ‘S the way to go.”

Harry laughs at him again, and strokes his face. Jeff’s eyes are closed and in literally five seconds he’s snoring softly, and Harry watches him sleep for a while, kisses his forehead gently before closing his eyes too. Just, he tells himself, for a coupla secs.

****

When Harry wakes again, he can tell by the depth of blue in the sky outside the window that it’s much later. He rolls over slightly in the bed, setting off a series of aches and pains in various parts of his body, jangling him into unwelcome alertness. Something crinkles against his face and he grasps at it - a note.

_Gone to get us take-out coffee. Dad’s banned, so we’ve none in the house. If you wake up & want something else - text me. Will get muffins too. xxx_

Harry slams the paper against his chest and beams at the ceiling again. 

Three little kisses. So sweet.

So. This is good. This is all so good. Last night was so good, and the party was fun, and Harry thinks he might have got himself an actual boyfriend now, an _alpha_ boyfriend even, who is kind and thoughtful and highly skilled in fucking. America is going brilliantly. And oh God, holy shit, Harry has to stop smiling this hard, because his face will surely cramp.

 

A few minutes later, Harry’s gliding along the surface of the pool. He decided a swim might settle the butterflies in his stomach, maybe calm him just enough to act vaguely like a normal person when Jeff comes back with the coffee.

When he’s done a couple of lazy laps, he rests in the water at the side of the pool that’s closest to the main house. From here, there’s a view right down over the surrounding hills, golden and hazy under the blue sky, and the house’s open patio doors are so close you could shout out for someone to bring you a drink, if you felt like it. Jeff’s so lucky to have this. Harry tips his head back against a hand-hold just under the lip of the pool, letting his body float listlessly, the morning sun glowing crimson through his closed eyelids. The water helped. He’s feeling more peaceful now. Some of the aches worked themselves out and the ones that remain are making Harry smile with memories of last night’s shamelessness.

Behind him in the main house, a sound of footsteps and then voices echo out through the open doors - Jeff’s parents must be up now too.

“I don’t care, Irving, no caffeine means no caffeine..”

“Shelli, my sweetheart. There’s gotta be remission for exceptional circumstances. Come on now - after all that yesterday, you’re gonna make life harder for me? Take pity on an old man.”

“Ohhh! I don’t know why I try, I really don’t. You wanna have a heart attack? Go ahead and have a heart attack. See if I care. Don’t worry about me. I’m just gonna go pick out a dress now to to sit Shiva.”

Harry chuckles quietly to himself, his body bobbing gently on the surface of the pool. Jeff’s parents are so cute. He didn’t really get to talk to them for too long yesterday, but maybe he should pull himself out of the water to chat with them now. He tries to imagine Jeff’s facial expression if he comes home to find Harry snuggled up with his parents, enjoying breakfast together. He’s got a feeling it might be amusing. 

The water laps softly at his skin. His head rests just under the lip of pool edge. It’s really comfortable, being all buoyant and secreted away here. But he’ll move. Say hi.

In a minute, maybe.

Jeff’s parents are still talking behind him, their voices wavering in volume, like they’re moving to and fro around their expansive kitchen.

“Is he still here? Did he stay in the pool house? What’s his name again? Harvey? Henry?”

“Harry, I think.”

“Huh. Like the prince? Ironic.”

“D’you really think we need to know it though? I mean,Irving, this has got to be a one-time thing for Jeff, right?”

Harry’s eyes snap open suddenly and his legs slowly sink, his feet hit the pool’s floor. 

“I don’t know, hun. I’ve gotta tell ya - I’m not happy. You know - Alice and Rick were talking to me about letting Jeff take over the McKenzie account? But after this, I don’t know. Seems like he’s still got a lot of growing up to do, if you ask me.”

“Oh … really Irv? You don’t think it was just his little moment? Like when Alli came home with that tattoo? Or when Aaron said he was going to live in a tent outside of Sea World until they set the whales free? I mean. They’ve all had their little rebellions. So, what? Jeff tried to shock us by bringing home some trashy omega? Don’t rise to it, that’s what I think.”

“It’s just got me questioning his judgement, hun …”

“I know…”

“I mean, so what’s next? Jeff’s gonna bring him as his date to the next Azoff Foundation Gala? Show everyone his pornographic tattoos? Get him to do another striptease?”

“Irving … don’t!”

Harry’s sunk so low in the water, his breath is make little ripples across the surface in front of his face. He can’t move. He’s turned to stone.

“Or, you know what? Scrap the galas! We should just do the next fundraiser at one of those, whaddyacallem, Heat Clubs? You know the ones? We watched that 60 Minute Special about them, remember? We could just get everyone to throw dollars at that Harry while he writhes around naked, begging someone to … you know … _service_ him.”

“Oh no, no, don’t remind me about that show. I feel just sick when I think about it! Oh my gosh, Irving, you don’t think Jeff met him at someplace like that, do you? Oh, oh, my baby boy! Maybe you better talk to him.”

“Maybe … I mean. It’s not that we’re prejudiced, hun …”

“No! We’re not. Of course that’s not it. I mean, we like Alli’s omega friend, Sarah, just fine, don’t we?”

“Now, she’s a good girl. Good manners. Knows how to hold herself, keeps herself discrete.”

“Exactly. So, it’s not prejudice. I just don’t hold with this flaunting business. Shoving it in our faces. Their nature. I know some of them think it’s OK, these days, but really. There’s a limit ... He was just shameless.”

“Imagine if Jeff gets him pregnant? Then that’s the end of everything, really isn’t it? That omega’s slutty claws stuck into him for the rest of Jeff’s life.”

“Irv! No! Why would you even say such a thing? You better have a talk with your son. Warn him about the risks. Get him thinking of his future! His reputation! He can’t put his career at stake now, when everything’s just starting to happen for him. Oh, talk to him before Meira’s dinner - she said she wants Jeff to meet her nephew, nice boy, beta … might be a good diversion …”

“Maybe. But, I’m going to tell Alice and Rick to find someone else for the McKenzie account. Jeff’s not ready for it. Not till he shows some better judgement…”

Their voices drift away again, as they retreat to another part of the house. 

 

Ten minutes later Harry’s dressed in last night’s clothes and quietly meeting a cab at the bottom of the driveway. 

Jeff texts soon after, asking where he is, if everything’s OK. Harry manages to still the shaking in his hand to text back a _thanks for the party_ , thinks carefully about how to word the next bit, and eventually decides on - _Last night was fun. Hope we’re still friends? See you maybe at Jamie’s thing next month_. And then, Harry tucks the phone away and lets the tears he’s been fighting leak from his eyes.

The scenes outside the car’s windows pass in a blur from coiffed greenery to grey concrete, and Harry absently pets the mermaid inked into his forearm. It isn’t fair, he thinks, looking down at her, like he’s done so many times when he’s been made feel this way.

Her eyes are sad - no one ever notices that, too busy looking at her nakedness. His poor mermaid - cursed and scorned because of all the sailors who drowned pursuing her. 

It wasn't her fault. All she’d ever done, after all, was sing.

 

***

 

**_Present_ **

 

The morning after the piano-bar party, at the appointed meet-up time for the scheduled horse-trek into the hills, Jeff’s breathing shallowly and gripping the edges of his mattress. Despite having had two partially-rehabilitative pukes, the room continues to spin in counterpoint to the swirling of his stomach. 

He wants, so bad, to call his Dad to come get him and take him home, like when he was nine and kept getting nosebleeds at Camp. He wants to ask his Mom to come sit beside him and rub his head and tell him he’s a good person who tries his best, and that’s all she asks of him, and he’s her best little soldier.

Except he can’t do that. Because he’s an adult now, who presented as an alpha at 13, and this means he’s supposed to have his shit together and be the forger of his own destiny, bending the world to his will and what-not. Not the type of person who lies around desperately hoping for a third and final puke which will cause him to choke to death on his own vomit - solving everything. 

Although, having the best man dying might possibly cast a cloud over Harry’s wedding. 

And Jeff doesn’t want to ruin Harry’s wedding. 

After all, that’s why he fucking came, that’s why he gave that toast last night, and drank all that champagne, and took Harry to bed and kissed him. That’s why he did all that. To NOT ruin Harry’s wedding.

He groans, rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. His insides start churning again.

Regretfully, there’s no more puking.

>>>>

 

It’s past lunchtime and Jeff’s finally recovered enough to leave his room. 

The rear of the reception lobby is dominated by a large archway that opens out to a leafy courtyard, and beyond that, the pool glints through trailing rose and jasmine. Jeff can hear laughter and splashing and British accents carrying through the air, and it almost slows the progress of his feet. Until he a deep voice shout, laughingly, “Tom! Leave it mate! Don’t get yer knickers in a twist!”

He can’t help smiling.

_Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, Jeffrey!_

He can almost hear Harry say it. Just like he’d said - _Don’t … don’t remember ... It was just a little kiss._

And, maybe, that’s what he needs to do. For Harry. Harry’s getting married after all. He really is. And Harry asked Jeff to be his best man because he wants him here. As his friend. Helping him find happiness. So Jeff’s going to have to do everything in his power to do just that.

 

Jeff heads towards the courtyard with a fresh determination in his step. But, clearly the universe decides Jeff’s new resolve needs immediate testing because suddenly Harry appears, wandering through in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt he's allowing to gape open over his chest.

He’s all long bare limbs and lightly tanned skin and Jeff heart starts pounding. Even as his brain echoes … _stop … twisting … yer knickers … ___

__Jeff can’t see Harry’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but he notices the way his body goes rigid for a moment, and knows he must have seen him. Jeff tries to smile, has a feeling it’s not coming out right, but then Harry’s smiling a little back at him, a blush rising on his cheeks, and he’s stepping forward towards… hesitantly … two steps and then …_ _

___“Oh Roy, look! I think that’s the little omega getting married.”_ _ _

__An elderly couple are making there way across the lobby too - checking out by the looks of things, staff carrying their bags out to the front door. The lady’s voice is loud, ringing up to the lofty ceiling. Jeff bites his lip at her description of Harry as a _little omega_ when she reaches him and grabs onto his forearm, peering up the considerable distance to his face._ _

__“Are you the one getting married, dear? Oh, it’s such a beautiful thing, sweetie. You are going to have a wonderful day! It is going to be wonderful, I promise.”_ _

__“Thank you. That’s so nice of you. Thank you.”_ _

__Harry glances up at Jeff again, a slight bewilderment in his expression as the little old lady starts pawing at his chest._ _

__“Roy! Roy!,” she’s saying, “remember our wedding day?! Wasn’t it wonderful?”_ _

__“Can’t remember hun,” the man beside her drawls, “guess so.”_ _

__“Oh, it was. Just wonderful,” she grasps Harry’s arm, her fingers digging in hard, “we barely knew each other - it was different in my day of course. Matched by our parents. Not like now. It’s so nice you get to choose for yourself these days. But even so. I knew. I just knew he was the one for me. Isn’t that right, Roy? Didn’t we just know?”_ _

__“Guess so, hun.”_ _

__“Oh, and then the honeymoon! Wait till you have the honeymoon, sweetheart! Well, I sure couldn’t believe it! My heat came on so fast. Like my body was just waiting for him. No suppressants or implants in our day. Honey!! Wait till you have your first heat-sex with your husband. My, my! Wasn’t it wonderful, Roy?”_ _

__“Now that, I remember, hun. It sure was. It sure was.”_ _

__Harry’s biting down so hard on his lip now, it’s turning white. Jeff comes over to them. He’s probably going to have to rescue him soon before he explodes into that barking laughter that happens when Harry has to hold back the giggles too long._ _

__“Oh my, my. Just you wait till you have your first heat-sex with your husband, dear! You won’t believe it!”_ _

__“OK!” Harry sings in a high pitched tone, all teeth and dimples._ _

__“You’re embarrassing him, hun.”_ _

__The lady sees Jeff hovering nearby and reaches for him too, pressing her hard fingertips into the flesh of his forearm._ _

__“Just you wait, dear,” she tells him._ _

__“Oh,” Jeff rushes to say, his face heating up now too. Not this again, “I’m not … It’s not …”_ _

__“You won’t believe how good it feels. Like your body was made just for this. That’s when it all makes sense, everything makes sense then.”_ _

__“Oh!” The lady has released Harry, but is now clutching onto Jeff, peering up at his face, “but doesn’t this one have kind eyes?! My Roy has kind eyes. That’s how I knew. I knew right from the moment my father introduced him to me. I saw his eyes and I said to myself - that alpha has the kindest eyes. Yes. That’s the one for me.”_ _

__She beckons at Harry to come closer, gesturing at Jeff’s face. “You’ve got a good one here, I think, my dear. Just look at those eyes and tell me.”_ _

__Jeff can barely breathe but can’t help looking over at Harry. He’s facing Jeff, but he’s still got those awful sunglasses on so Jeff can’t see him properly. He wishes he could see him._ _

__“Yeah,” Harry says then, quietly, dipping his face downwards , “he does, doesn’t he? That’s what I thought when I met him first too. That he’s got kind eyes.”_ _

__Jeff heart thuds._ _

__Harry’s cousins tumble through the doorway behind them, a flurry of giggles and dark curls._ _

__“Harry!” they’re calling, “are we pimping this prosecco or what? Get back out here! Everything’s going flat!”_ _

__“Well,” the lady pats Jeff’s arm, beaming back at forth between the two of them, “best of luck, my dears. It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it Roy? Finally getting to bond with your true love?”_ _

__Roy totters over to her, links her hand inside his elbow, presses a kiss to her forehead, “Sure is, hun, it sure is.”_ _

__

__Jeff’s laid out on a sunlounger, the traces of his hangover still pounding against his skull, but he’s swiped someone’s sunglasses and everyone around him is giddy with prosecco and the glaring sunshine so he’s feeling camouflaged and overlooked. This is today’s definition of success._ _

__Tom is arguing the merits of prosecco floats with a resolutely unconvinced Fionn, who has placed his palm flat over his flute glass, fending off Tom’s attempt to dump a spoon of rapidly melting ice-cream into it. Everyone else seems to have picked a side in the debate, laughing and cheering while Harry wanders through the pool-side crowd, carrying a tray of glasses and little bowls of berries and cordials._ _

__Someone shouts out, “Great maid-service Harry! Practicing that whole Jerry Hall pefect-wifey thing, huh?”_ _

__“What’s that?”_ _

__“Oh you know that quote …” Tom turns, clicking his fingers to try to remember, “To keep a man you have to be, whatsit, a maid in the living room, a cook in the kitchen, a whore in the bedroom...”_ _

__Everyone cackles. Someone flicks a strawberry at Harry’s head. He’s laughing too. Loudly. He bows slightly with the tray steady in his hands, and says, airily, “So, looks like I’ve got the maid thing down. I suppose two out of three ain’t bad.”_ _

__Everyone whoops and Harry cackles at the reaction._ _

__“Harry’s a great cook.”_ _

__There’s a sudden beat of silence that holds the air still and heavy for just long enough for Jeff to recognise that his own voice was the one that had spoken._ _

__There’s a lonely titter from someone before a couple of other people huff out some awkward laughter. Then Jamie, sitting at a nearby table, smacks his thigh and guffaws loudly, “Well, at least your best man is speaking up for your reputation, Harry! Didn’t see anyone else stepping up!”_ _

__Jeff’s face is in flames. He shifts the sunglasses on his nose, and lies back, shutting his eyes behind their shades, attempting nonchalance. He doesn’t know what Harry’s doing. Doesn’t want to … until a shadow falls across him and he blinks up against the tall silhouette standing over him, blocking out the sun._ _

__Jeff rips off his sunglasses in time to see Ellis’ face smirking down at him, _fucking Ellis!_ , before he sneaks over to where Harry’s standing, his back turned while he hands over the empty tray to a waiter._ _

__Ellis casts a glance back over his shoulder and catches Jeff’s eye, shoots him a quick smirk, theatrically pressing his fingers to his lips before he’s sliding his arms over Harry’s chest from behind, bending to press a kiss into his neck, saying “Hello, my darling.”_ _

__Harry’s reaction is hilarious, probably, for anyone who isn’t in love with him. His limbs flail wildly as he scrambles to look around, and once he cottons on it is indeed Ellis there, touching him, he staggers a few feet until someone grasps his elbow just in time to save him falling backwards into the pool. He stands, frozen for a split second, his mouth dropped open, looking around at everyone as though seeking confirmation that he isn’t hallucinating, before finally flinging himself at Ellis with such force that they both stumble._ _

__“What … what are you doing here?!” Harry gasps._ _

__Everyone around the pool is cheering and awww-ing and Ellis laughs lightly and pulls back to look at Harry, draws his thumb across his cheek, wiping away a tear that’s spilling gently downwards._ _

__“I missed you, sweetheart. Couldn’t stay away, after all.”_ _

__“But your meeting…”_ _

__“Brought my meeting here.” Ellis nods at a man and woman, dressed in business suits, peering curiously out from the archway. “Couldn’t think about anything but you, anyway…”_ _

__The breadth of Harry’s smile draws another round of _“awwwwws”_ before he buries it in Ellis’s shoulder._ _

__There’s a few moments of fuss, when everyone seems to have a reason to get up from their seats, mill about, laugh excitedly. Jeff just can’t bring himself to join in. He takes advantage of the hubbub to shuffle over to the drinks table. His stomach lurches in protest at the prospect of more fizzy alcohol, but he knocks back a glass of prosecco in one gulp anyway. It’s time his stomach learned to toughen up._ _

__Close by, with their backs to him, Ellis and Harry are standing, greeting the guests who come to say hi to Ellis and thank him for his largess. When the well-wishers drift away, Jeff watches Ellis’ hand stray over the back of Harry’s head, gathering Harry’s hair up inside his fist. He pulls it just hard enough to tug Harry’s head back, making him look up at him._ _

__“Thought this was coming off? Having too much fun to get to the salon?”_ _

__Ann, sitting at a nearby table, laughs. “Ellis, no matter how much he loves his alpha, there is nothing on earth that will get Harry to cut off that hair. Believe me, I’ve been trying for years.”_ _

__Ellis grins sharply at her. Then he turns away and tugs again, until Harry’s head is tilted back and he can see the look Ellis is giving him. “Get it done, yeah? Need you looking decent. So …”_ _

__He releases Harry’s hair and it tumbles around Harry’s face as drops his head._ _

__“… come and meet Melissa and Robert,” Ellis continues, “I’ve been telling them all about you. They’re really interested by everything I had to say. Just dying to get to know you.”_ _

__Jeff watches Ellis lead Harry by the hand to the business people in the archway and absently reaches for another glass. He feels sick again. He’s going to have to drink more, it’s the only thing for it._ _

__Glenne appears out of nowhere and swipes the drink Jeff’s holding. She raises an eyebrow, pointedly, knocks back the remaining prosecco herself._ _

__“Clock’s ticking,” she says, “tick, tock, tick, tock,” and then walks away._ _

__

__***********_ _

__

__“Hello there Jeff, how’s our best man doing?”_ _

__It’s a few hours later. Everyone is gradually disappearing again to their their rooms to rest up and shower before the evening supper ‘round a campfire. Jeff has just had his ass handed to him at scrabble with Ann and Gemma. He guesses the fact that they’re a whole family of omegas must be why they’re all so competitive, their home free of automatic deference. That doesn’t explain the cheating though. He still doesn’t believe that _pooglas_ are a famous Yorkshire snack. He’d ask Harry about it ... but … Ellis has him tucked under his arm, and is calling Jeff over._ _

__Ellis leans in to give Jeff a loose, one-arm embrace, more of a shoulder pat really. It has the awkward effect of bringing Harry and Jeff to their closest physical proximity since the night before._ _

__“I’m good, Ellis, thanks. Great to see you. Glad you could make it after all.”_ _

__They’re in the lobby again, a huge mirror hanging over the empty fireplace. Jeff hadn’t noticed it before. But it catches his attention now by bringing the unfortunate information that Jeff’s facial expression isn’t exactly conveying the spirit of his words._ _

__“Yeah, you too.” It seems to be OK because Ellis is more interested in looking over Jeff’s shoulder than at his face. “So. Didn’t see your parents so far, Jeff? You must bring them over. I’ve been looking forward to meeting them.”_ _

__“Oh, they’re really sorry, but they can’t make it. They’re really excited for you though. They sent a gift. And a note.”_ _

__“Oh?” Ellis straightens, standing even taller somehow. He raises an eyebrow at Harry._ _

__Harry nods and shoots a quick smile at Jeff. He says, “Tell them thank you,” before ducking his head away again._ _

__“They’re really sorry,” Jeff adds hurriedly, not quite sure why he’s feeling like he’s let the side down somehow. His Dad hasn’t been very well lately. They’re sending him for tests for his heart again. He didn’t mention it to Harry, not wanting to worry him, “They want you both to come for lunch, soon as you get back from your honeymoon. That’s what’s in the note.”_ _

__Ellis remains unmoved for a moment, casting a piercing, appraising look at Jeff. Then he smiles, very brightly, straight white teeth bared sharply._ _

“We’d love that, Jeff. Let’s get it in the schedule. So,” he turns to Harry, “who _is_ here then, Harry? Simon?” 

__Harry smiles up at Ellis. “He’s coming on Saturday. Flying out on a private jet that morning.”_ _

__Ellis frowns, “What about Randy and Cindy?”_ _

__“Same,” Harry smiles again, a little less convincingly, “they’ll be here Saturday. ”_ _

__“Hmm,” Ellis tightens his grip around Harry, Jeff can see his knuckles whiten over Harry’s shoulder, “so my little networking maestro hasn’t delivered the goods after all, this time? Never mind. Love you anyway.”_ _

__Ellis plants a quick kiss on Harry’s forehead and then grins wolfishly at Jeff. “Isn’t Harry so very talented at making friends with all the right people, though? So good at working that omega charm. Everybody loves Harry, right Jeff?”_ _

Jeff can feel his mouth has dropped open. He can’t seem to manage any kind of response that isn’t _What the fuck is that supposed to mean, fucking Ellis_? 

__He glances at Harry, who is looking at the floor now, cheeks blazing._ _

__“Oh! Just teasing, sweetheart!” Ellis laughs loudly, and squeezes Harry even tighter, “I don’t care who is here, as long as I’ve got you!”_ _

__Ellis winks at Jeff, before pulling Harry away into the piano bar, where his business guests, this Melissa and Robert, are sitting on tall stools. They both sit up straighter when Ellis and Harry approach, their faces brightening._ _

__Jeff stares after them. Who brings fucking business acquaintances to their wedding, anyway?_ _

Jeff’s skin feels all hot and prickly and his stomach is still swirling, never really settled all day. He suddenly notices his fists have clenched tightly, nails digging painfully into his palms. Harry and Ellis’ business friends are all laughing together, and it’s making Jeff burn up. Anger surges through him. _You don’t know him. You don’t KNOW him_ , he wants to shout. _You shouldn’t get to keep him_. 

__Harry’s eyes meet Jeff’s across the room, but just for the briefest of moments and he looks away again, a hint of a frown appearing and disappearing quickly on his forehead._ _

__Something’s off. The planet has somehow tilted into the wrong orbit, drifting away from the sun, and no one except Jeff seems to have noticed the advancing dimness._ _

__

__

__Jeff’s snapping pieces of wood into tiny twigs with his bare hands, tossing them into the blazing campfire in front of him. Glenne, Jamie and one of Harry’s cousins are stretched on the rug beside him, their face aglow in amber hues from the crackling flames._ _

__It’s been a while since everyone rounded off the evening meal with smores and toasted marshmallows. Most of the group have gone to bed, tired from the night before. Jeff’s finally eaten, so he’s feeling slightly healthier. But the conversation has turned to politics, which is making him uncomfortable again._ _

__“No, what I’m saying is I just don’t think the terms are valid any more!” Harry’s cousin, Carrie, is saying, “That’s my point. If everyone’s crazy-making hormones are suppressed by pills and implants, then surely, everyone’s essentially a beta now. Why do we even keep referencing people by something that isn’t even relevant any more?”_ _

__“Exactly!” Glenne says. “We should just drop these reductive labels. It’s just a way of propping up the status quo. It’s as much about money as anything. Alphas have all the political and economic power - if everyone’s suddenly equal, it makes our economic and social system totally untenable. That’s why we’re still using labels.”_ _

__“No! You guys are missing the point! Because it’s all temporary,” Jamie says, all animated in his cross-legged position, “you two -” he points at Jeff and Glenne, “- could get your implants removed any time, and go full-on alpha - brawling and rutting all over the place. Watch out world! You don’t get it ‘cos you wouldn’t be the ones at risk. But, there’s always a threat. Like a real, physical danger with you guys, whether you want to admit it or not. If it wasn’t for regulation, who knows where we’d all be?”_ _

__“I’d keep the implant, I wouldn’t ever want … _that_ …” Jeff hurries to tell him. He can never quite believe it, that this is supposed be his true nature, that without the synthetic hormone regulation he’d be … what? … a bully? A thug? A rapist, even? His mind drifts to Harry, that night years ago, when he sweetly asked Jeff to knot him, like it was a simple thing, like it hadn’t even occurred to him that Jeff might be a risk. Jeff snaps a twig again. He’d never. He’d never do anything to hurt him…_ _

__“Not that that regulation matters all that much any more, anyway!” Glenne mutters._ _

__“Is it a big thing here over here now too?” Carrie asks. “Nullifiers? Everyone’s taking them at home when they’re hooking up. It’s crazy. I know they only last an hour or so, but… I dunno if I’d want to try it. My friend had a really bad experience with this alpha who…”_ _

__“Can we not? Sorry. I just …” Jeff rushes to his feet. They look up at him, three worried faces._ _

__“Sorry. Still a bit queasy from last night, I guess. I think I might take a stroll, then turn in. Rehearsal tomorrow. Gotta be sharp.”_ _

__Glenne looks concerned, “You want some company, or …”_ _

__“It’s ok. No. You guys stay here and fix society. Get it all worked out. We’ll announce the plan for the New World Order at breakfast, yeah? Glenne’s in charge, of course.” He forces a grin, and relaxes a little when he sees Glenne laugh._ _

__He’d quite like a New World Order actually, he thinks as he walks away. One where no one ever gets married would be good._ _

__

__The moon is shining so brightly that Jeff ends up walking for a long time along the carefully tended paths up into the forested hills behind the resort. He climbs a slope that gives him a view right over the guesthouse, the pool still softly glowing, lamps shining around the private villa at the bottom of the garden where Harry’s staying. Well, Harry and Ellis now._ _

__It is a beautiful place to get married, Jeff concedes. Even in the dark it’s beautiful. Crickets singing to the starlight, tree branches whispering in the light breeze. Except - there are mosquitos whining around his head now that he’s stopped moving so Jeff decides he better start heading back. No point bringing itchiness into the equation of all that’s wrong with his life at the moment._ _

__He’s nearly back, and doesn’t know know what it is exactly that makes him stop just at the bottom of the garden, but something does._ _

__He stops and for some reason checks he’s still hidden by the darkness and shrubbery, before peering around a topiary tree. Across the expanse of lawn, on the small patio outside of the villa, Ellis and that new couple - Melissa and Robert, wasn’t it - are sitting around a wrought iron table. It’s laden with empty bottles and glasses and they’re laughing about something, the sound of it echoing across the garden._ _

__Jeff’s not sure why he keeps watching in the shadows, because there’s no sign of Harry, but something is holding him there. He needs to do this. Needs to put something to rest, get rid of this prickling unease that has been slowly driving him crazy. He waits and watches and nothing happens for a long time. They talk and laugh. Sometimes Melissa leans forward to stroke her hand along Ellis’ arm but she leans back again every time, nothing further happening. Robert is splayed loosely in his seat, smoking the whole time. Even from this distance, Jeff thinks he looks wasted._ _

__And then, just as Jeff’s about to give up, Ellis stands and goes to the villa door, opening it, leaning his head inside to say something._ _

__Harry emerges, in a silk dressing gown, head bowed. Ellis puts a hand on his back and guides him forward, walks him up to stand in front of where Melissa and Robert are sitting. Ellis then reaches around Harry to loosen his belt, pulling the gown from his shoulders, until Harry steps free and is naked in front of everyone._ _

__Jeff's heart starts to pounds a deafening beat in his ears, and everything seems to go swirly and unsteady. He shuts his eyes for a second, struggles to take a few ragged breaths. When he manages to force his eyes open again, he sees that Ellis is now standing behind Harry, pressing himself up against his back. He’s reaching around to hold Harry’s dick, fumbling and tugging, and now Melissa is leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, pulling on a cigarette and watching carefully._ _

__It’s too far away to see Harry’s expression, but when Ellis takes his hands away, puts them on Harry’s shoulders, it seems like Harry acquiesces without complaint. He allows himself to be turned in the direction of Melissa, kneels compliantly when Ellis presses his hands to his shoulders again, bows his head like before while she parts her legs, reaches up inside her skirt to peel her underwear slowly down._ _

__Ellis stays standing, a wine glass in his hand now, looking down at them. And then he grabs at Harry’s bowed head, thrusts him at the woman, shoving him between her legs and Jeff hears her exclamation cry out suddenly and she slides in the chair, writhing down onto Harry’s face. Her skirt hitches upwards as she spreads her legs wider, the bare skin of her thighs gleaming in the moonlight, her back arching, loud pants crescendoing, Harry’s dark curls twisted round her pale fingers._ _

__Jeff can’t move. The whole time he’s watching. He can’t even breathe - his lungs are screaming at him, while he silently wills his legs to _move move MOVE_._ _

__It’s awful. And he’s frozen._ _

__The man, Robert, shuffles up onto his feet and comes to stand beside Ellis. Melissa pushes Harry back, reaching her hand between her legs now, and saying something to the two men standing over them. It’s when Robert draws what looks like a phone from his back pocket, points it at Harry - taking a photo? a video? - that Jeff’s knees finally unlock, and he manages to take a shaky, unsteady step out from behind the shrubbery._ _

__No one seems to notice him approaching, but that’s because they’re watching how Ellis is re-arranging Harry now, pushing him onto his hands and knees onto the patio decking. Robert places his foot on Harry’s shoulder until he dips down, his face to the floor, while Ellis kicks lightly against inside of Harry’s thighs until he’s spread his legs wider._ _

__The two guys are bent over Harry when Jeff’s finally reaches their side of the garden. Ellis’ broad hand is digging into the flesh of Harry’s ass, squeezing hard to expose his hole probably - Jeff can’t really see. The way they're bending over his body, appraising him, reminds Jeff of his Dad’s friends coming by to examine the shining exterior of a vintage car one of them’s restored._ _

__When Jeff steps onto the patio, Robert is unzipping his fly, pulling his dick out, moving between Harry’s spread legs, kneeling behind him._ _

__“No.”_ _

__No one looks up but that’s because Jeff’s voice had barely any volume to it, his throat constricted too tightly. He’s surprised they can’t hear his heartbeat though, it’s still drumming in his ears._ _

__It’s the sound of him bumping into one of the wrought iron chairs that make them look up, the ringing scrape of metal against stone._ _

__“Harry,” Jeff chokes out, “get up. You -” he points at the guy, who is frozen in place, his dick still in his hand, “get the fuck away from him. Don’t fucking _touch_ him.”_ _

__But Harry doesn’t stand. Doesn’t even look up. Instead, he tightens into a curl on the ground, brings his forearms together over the back of his head, like he wants to bury himself._ _

__Ellis’s stepped forward, chuckling lightly._ _

__“Feeling a little left out, Jeffrey?”_ _

__And that - _THAT!_ \- that fucking Ellis called him Jeffrey, when only Harry gets to call him Jeffrey, that’s what does it and a welting beat of rage strikes through Jeff._ _

__He flings a table out of his path, bottles crashing into pieces on the ground, and grabs Ellis by the front of his shirt, that fucking smirk on his face finally replaced by an expression of shock. Jeff shoves him, hard as he can, somewhere off to the side, not bothering to watch where he falls. Then he strides up to Harry, grabs him by the arm, pulls him upright._ _

__Harry seems to stagger for a moment, his long hair hiding hiding his face, so it takes Jeff a moment to realise that what happens next is not Harry stumbling a little because he can’t get his balance, but is Harry pushing at Jeff, wrenching himself free from his grasp, scrambling to get away from him._ _

__“No! No! Jeff, fucking stop!!”_ _

__Harry pushes past Jeff to where Ellis is sprawled. He helps him up, reaching to dab away the bead of blood that’s dripping from Ellis’ nose._ _

__“Harry!” Jeff’s voice cuts out, when Harry doesn’t turn. He’s standing with Ellis, back to Jeff, the muscles in his back rippling as his breath comes fast and shallow._ _

__“Harry,” Jeff tries again, “come with me.”_ _

__But Harry leans into Ellis instead, holding onto his wrist with both hands, head bowed into his shoulder._ _

__Jeff see him shake his head._ _

__“No. Jeff.” Harry finally turns to look at him, his eyes wide and dark, “Could you go? Will you just go?”_ _

__“Harry -”_ _

__“No!” Harry shouts, squeezing his eyes shut, “just fuck off Jeff. Just fucking go!”_ _

__A torchlight appears at the edge of the patio. It’s that concierge they met when they arrived._ _

__“We heard shouting, is everything all right?”_ _

__“Everything’s fine,” Ellis sniffs. He reaches for Harry’s dressing gown on the ground, drapes it over his shoulders. “Just a bit of nonsense. Wouldn’t be a proper wedding if someone didn’t make a fool of themselves, would it?”_ _

__And Jeff turns, stumbles away, back over the garden. Because, with the blood in his veins turning icy cold, Jeff realises, he’s right._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now listen to this song:  
> [Fake by The Frames](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlIVJgtARVE)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Paris nightclub scene: [This song](https://youtu.be/hbe3CQamF8k) Massive Attack: Angel

Jeff’s shaking so violently he can barely get the keycard into the slot to open his bedroom door. Once inside, he prowls around the small room, turning in circles, bumping into furniture. Nothing’s in focus. He hears something get knocked over and smash to pieces but it sounds far away. It doesn’t seem to belong to this reality, not here, where everything is aflame in this red haze of broiling, incandescent rage.

Twice, he turns to the door, determined to go back and get Harry, drag him here by his hair if he has to. Because Jeff shouldn’t have left him there, he shouldn’t have just walked away … what was he thinking …

He stops himself at the threshold both times because some part of his brain recognises that if he sees Ellis right now, he might actually kill him. He’s never before known anything like this white heat searing through his veins. Every sinew of his body is tightening, quivering with the impulse to hit, to hurt. Fucking Ellis deserves to hurt. To bleed.

And Serge - the way he leered at Harry’s naked body before Ellis covered him up. And that couple - the way they … fucking hell … Harry … what on earth? What on earth have you got yourself into? 

Jeff needs to go back and get him.

He turns to the door again and is reaching for the handle when it rattles - someone’s on the outside trying to get in. There’s a flurry of frantic thumps against the wood, and Jeff fumbles to open it. Harry’s there. 

Harry. 

Jeff reaches for him, to pull him to his chest, to tell him it’ll be OK, that he’ll take care of him, get him out of here - 

But Harry just shoves him, hard. Jeff stumbles backwards into his bedroom, Harry pushing past, slamming the door behind them.

“You-” Harry whirls around, pointing. He’s dressed again - in sweat pants and a crumpled t-shirt that’s inside-out. His voice is choked tight, he’s trembling. “How could you do that to me? You fucking _humiliated_ me!”

Jeff’s mouth drops.

“ _I_ humiliated you? What the - Harry! What the fuck?! They were treating you like a whore! Ellis was treating you like a whore!”

Harry freezes. He shakes his head, wide eyes fixed on Jeff.

“I’ll take you home,” Jeff says, still on fire, heart still pounding. He looks around for his car keys. Fuck his stuff, he’ll leave it. He just needs to get Harry away. “I’ll get you home and away from here and it’ll be OK, Harry. You’ll be OK.”

“I’m getting married.” Harry says, voice weak, cracking, “Jeff. I’m getting married, I’m getting married.”

“No, you’re not.” Jeff sees his keys finally, on the floor, mixed with the mess of everything else that used to be on the desk. “Not to him. No fucking way.”

He picks them up and when he turns back to Harry, he sees he’s just standing there, shaking his head.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Harry says shakily. He doesn’t seem to be able to breathe properly either, gasping out the words. “You don’t get to call me a - And then tell me - You don’t. You don’t… You’re all, you’re all the same aren’t you? All you alphas. No matter what. Deep down you’re all the same. Controlling fucking - No. No. I decide what I want, Jeff. I decide for myself!”

Dizziness crashes in a wave over Jeff. He grasps hold of the back of a chair to keep himself upright.

“What are you talking about, Harry?” he manages to spit out, “You’re not safe with him! I’m fucking trying to help you…”

Harry stamps his foot on the floor. “You’re not listening to me! I’m getting married to Ellis. And this.. What you did … is not helping me! You’re supposed to be my best man, but you disappeared! You didn’t help me! I’ve had to do everything by myself. Pick the suits, everything. All the organising. And now.. You do this?! I thought, I thought you’d be proud of me, that this would make everything … but you just …”

“I am your friend.” Jeff’s can barely choke out the words. He can’t process any of this. What the actual fuck is happening? “I’m not letting you be with someone who forces you to …”

“He didn’t force me do anything. I _like_ it! OK?! It’s consensual. I like doing that for my alpha. It doesn’t make me a whore, fuck you, Jeff! I decide for myself what I do. Who I- I’m with. Me and Ellis, we … It’s not your business, what happens between me and Ellis.”

Harry’s eyes are shining bright and he’s twisting the hem of his t-shirt in tight knots around his fingers. But there’s anger - radiating from him. Jeff feels it hit like a sonic-boom against his body, leaving him hollowed out, ears ringing.

“You liked it…?” Jeff shakes his head. No, no. Harry didn’t mean to say that. He couldn’t possibly … He _shouldn’t_ … Because that would mean he …

“He’s not a good person, Harry.” Jeff takes a breath and dredges up every particle of self-control he can summon. “Ellis shouldn’t make you… shouldn’t ask you to do that. He should look after you, like, he should fucking _treasure_ you… That’s, that’s what you deserve…”

“He does look after me. Everything I want, he -”

“He buys you shit?” Anger snaps at Jeff’s heels again. “Takes you on fancy vacations? Because you fuck his friends? Is that what you think is looking after you?!”

Harry’s face pales. “You ... You do think I’m a whore, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for the lifestyle or something, don’t you?”

“Harry, what’s happening?” 

Jeff lets himself sink into the chair he was holding onto. He grabs with both hands at his own hair, rubbing his knuckles into his skull. He keeps trying to breathe, steady himself, but his pulse is racing and he can’t stop shaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I, I,… Harry…” Jeff takes another shuddering breath, looks back up at Harry.

“I don’t want you to marry him. Please. I don’t think you should. Because I…” Jeff’s heart thuds against his ribs. He _has_ to. He has to say this now or … “I’ve never said this, but, Harry, I, I lo-”

“Stop! No! Don’t! Just don’t.” 

Now Harry’s got his head in his hands too. He’s taking small steps backwards, staring wild-eyed at Jeff, white-faced, visibly trembling all over. 

Jeff takes another breath and tries again, his throat so tight it hurts to speak. He shuts his eyes and says it.

“I love you, Harry. I do. I’m sorry, I can’t - I can’t not say it any more. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. Since we met. Since that night. I… I just… I love-”

“So what?” 

Harry’s hands have fallen to his sides, curled into fists. And his face … his face is unrecognisable. Jeff’s never him look like this - his skin paper-white, lips thin, eyes too bright. He looks like a shard of broken glass - hard, shiny, sharp.

“So fucking what, Jeff?” he continues, his voice thin. “What difference does it make?”

Someone’s taken a sledgehammer to Jeff’s chest, walloped him so hard it’s emptied him out.

Harry looks away, raises his eyes to the wall over Jeff’s head.

“I told you to stop. You shouldn’t have said that. You can’t say that to me. As if it can change anything. You don’t get to say that.”

He takes a shaky breath. “Everything was all sorted out. I was going to have everything that - … You need to apologise. To Ellis. You embarrassed him. Messed things up. He was putting together a big deal and now it’s all ruined and everyone’s embarrassed. I want you to apologise to him.”

Jeff starts laughing. He can hear it’s coming out high pitched and hysterical. He can’t help it. He’s dizzy again. Everything’s spinning, spinning…

Fucking Ellis’ business deal? That’s what Harry cares about? Harry - he ... he doesn’t care. Not about Jeff. 

He told him. Jeff just told him and Harry just … He just cares about fucking Ellis’ business deal.

Jeff shakes his head in disbelief. Harry _kissed_ him last night. And now he … 

“I thought I knew you,” Jeff croaks. “That you and me … that we, maybe, we… But I don’t, do I? I don’t know you at all.”

Harry stares down at him again, his eyes shining brighter. He’s still shaking. Jeff can hear it in his breathing.

When he doesn’t answer, the surge of renewed rage that engulfs Jeff feels like being doused in petrol and set alight. 

Harry wants Ellis. 

He wants Ellis and his business deals and Ellis’ friends and Ellis’ gifts. He wants to slut around for Ellis, get on his knees for the people Ellis wants to impress. It’s all true then. About omegas. Their real nature. Everything he was ever brought up to believe. There’s nothing left for Jeff to cling to. No hope. There’s nothing.

The rage sweeps away as quickly as it came on. And in its wake - cold clarity, a new icy understanding.

“You are a fucking whore.” Jeff breathes aloud, in sudden realisation. His fist clenches and he looks at Harry. He doesn’t even care anymore when he sees Harry’s face crumple. He feels nothing. The world is singing to him - a high, brittle note that’s drowning out everything else. Glass is breaking, ice shattering. 

Harry heaves a breath that catches in his throat. 

“Fuck you, Jeff.” 

The words are caught in a sob as Harry rushes from the room.

 

***

 

_**2 months before the wedding. Paris** _

 

Bass throbs a deep pulse against the walls of the cavernous club, jarring loose beads of condensation to drip slowly down to the sticky floor.

Ellis is striding across the room. People move back respectfully to let him pass - making way for the tall, handsome alpha, with that air of casual dominance. Harry tries to keep up, tries to keep his eyes fixed on Ellis’ tall form so he won’t get left behind. But the crowd close up again behind Ellis, stepping in Harry’s path, blocking him off.

Harry’s heart beats faster when he loses sight of Ellis for a moment. Lights from the staging flash in his eyes and the music is so loud he’s disorientated. He spins around, lost, strangers’ bodies crushing in closer. He feels a hand roam over his arse, sharp fingers digging into his forearm. He shakes them loose, pushing through, finally catches sight of Ellis again. 

He’s at the entrance to a cordoned-off area exchanging a few words with the girl there - an omega, judging by her deferential head-bow. Her red lipstick is smeared a little, her collar bones sticking out of pale skin. Harry sees Ellis slip her a €100 bill, and she unclips the velvet cord, raising it to allow him inside.

For a moment, it looks like Ellis is going to go on without Harry and leave him out here alone. This is one of those times Harry feels he’s become invisible to Ellis. They’ve only been dating a couple of months but Harry’s noticed the growing frequency of Ellis’ strange, distracted moods. He gets tense and absent, for hours at a time, his whole being absorbed by something he keeps tightly locked shut and hidden from Harry.

The fact he seems less interested in concealing these moods, is, in Harry’s experience, a signal that things with Ellis are probably coming to an end, that Harry’s time is up. 

And as he watches Ellis walk up the steps to the platform of the private area, Harry tries to figure out what name to put to the feeling stirring inside him at that realisation. It’s been a whirlwind, these few weeks - everything with Ellis has been dazzling and fast-paced and sexy and intense. Being with him - it’s felt like being devoured alive.

Ellis delights in treating Harry to things he’s never had in such abundance before - meals in the finest restaurants, luxurious stays in expensive hotel suites, gifts of exquisite designer clothing. But, with the exception of those short-lived, dark moods, it’s Ellis’ attention that he has really lavished on Harry. 

He listens so closely to everything Harry says when they talk, all his rambling stories about his friends, his work. Ellis listens, his blue eyes fixed on Harry’s, gently stroking his arm, his face. When Harry’s talked himself out, Ellis rolls him over and fucks him hard, like it turned him on, all those slow words, till Harry’s gasping and teary, whimpering into the mattress. Harry’s never had a lover who seemed so absorbed by him. Someone who just seems to want him, all of him, as openly and insatiably as Ellis does.

Sometimes he has to step away - take a few moments alone, hide in a bathroom and take a few slow steadying breaths, look at himself in the mirror and wonder … how is this happening? Why has this handsome, authoritative alpha chosen him, the improper omega with a long line of failed relationships, when he could choose anyone? 

Getting dropped by him now would feel like falling out of a rollercoaster, plummeting into a vertiginous tailspin. But even so, even with all Ellis gives him, he doesn’t think he’d feel heartbroken.

Harry thinks that what he’d mostly feel is just plain weariness. A tired sadness at once again being tried out, taken for a test-drive, and then returned to base, somehow lacking in whatever it is that makes someone worth loving properly.

 

Ellis reaches the top step and turns. He frowns at the emptiness behind him and looks out over the club, finally sees Harry, edging through the throngs to reach him.

He holds out a hand as Harry makes his way up the steps, bringing Harry’s fingers to his lips when he catches up enough to grasp for Ellis.

“Where’d you disappear to, darling?”

But he’s walking on without waiting for Harry’s reply.

 

If the crowd on the dancefloor felt vaguely menacing, there’s not much respite inside the VIP area. Alphas - the whole section is full of them. Harry’s spine prickles as he feels their gazes on him, taking him in. He sees bared teeth and flashing eyes and drops his eyes to the floor, stepping closer to Ellis, reaching his fingers to touch Ellis’ wrist. 

Their scents are so intense, even in the smoky, muggy atmosphere. It’s shocking - musk and sweat and the sharp tang of testosterone. 

They’re all on nullifiers. Harry can tell. Their poise, the atmosphere of threatened violence, the hunger in their eyes when they stare at him - he has to forcibly fight his instinct to run.

Ellis places his hand on Harry’s back proprietorially. The other alphas, seeing now that Harry is his, retreat slightly. There’s an involuntary thrill down Harry’s spine. 

This is what it feels like - to be claimed, to be marked as off-limits. Ellis’ strong presence beside him is more than reassurance. It feels, deep-down and in a way Harry doesn’t like to admit, it feels _right_.

Ellis is looking around, eventually leading them to a table close to the main floor with a view over an empty stage. A man is already there with a bottle of champagne in an ornate bucket in front of him. He stands when Ellis’ approaches, and the greet each other with back-slaps and guffaws.

“Jean, this is Harry, my omega.”

Harry feels himself frown at being introduced like this, but immediately tries to smoothen out his facial muscles. There’s no reason why Ellis shouldn’t call him that, after all. For now. 

The man leers at him, his tongue poking between his teeth.

“Hello Harry. Aren’t you a pretty one.”

His accent is french, his handshake is clammy and too clawing. Harry forces a smile and dips his head.

“Oh and polite too.”

Ellis laughs. “Oh, not too polite though. Just the right amount.”

Harry slides into a seat, looking away. He’s nervous here. The atmosphere is dense with smoke and pheromones and damp heat. It makes him want to curl away and hide.

Ellis’ hand is on his knee suddenly, and when Harry looks up he sees Jean is extending a glass of champagne to him. 

“Won’t you join us, Harry?”

Harry feels Ellis squeeze his leg slightly, and feels obligated to take the glass. This must be one of Ellis’ potential investors. This trip has been littered with lunches and dinners where Ellis has casually mixed business with pleasure. Harry hasn’t minded about it so far, even when the conversation veered into NAV ratios and derivatives and other things that just made Harry’s brain buzz like a hive of bees. The venues till now have been fine restaurants, or exclusive executive clubs, places that have been substantially less … seedy.

Harry sips his champagne, tries to look relaxed. He wouldn’t like Ellis to think that he’s only happy if he’s being brought to the expensive places. He tries to smile at him, but Ellis isn’t looking his way.

The lights on the stage suddenly beam up and the crowd roars, heaving and swelling in a rush to get closer. 

Jean guffaws at the clamour, and dips his hand into his inside jacket pocket. He pulls out a couple of vials, offers one each to Ellis and Harry.

“When in Rome, yes?”

“Later, maybe,” Ellis laughs, taking both and slipping them discretely into his pocket.

 

It’s a Heat Club. 

Harry doesn’t know how he didn’t figure it out until now.

The crowd beneath them is heaving with a throbbing energy, thick with lust and barely contained violence.

Harry knows why now, can smell them, even without being on a nullifier himself.

The lights on the stage swivel to three spots, the music crescendoing, and they’re brought out, chained and collared. 

Omegas in the throes of heat. Two males and a female.

They reek. Of sex and the sickly sweet pungency of their slick.

Harry doesn’t watch, he can’t. He keeps his gaze locked onto the table in front of him, at the shining rings left by the drinks glasses, the drips of condensation running down the champagne bucket.

But he can’t help hearing it - the braying crowd, the obscenities they spit, the occasional wail or panting pleas from one of the omegas. 

He glances up just once. Looks at one - the fair guy. He’s naked, drenched in sweat, shaking all over. He’s been brought forward to the front of the stage, and he’s dropping to his knees, unprompted by his handler, bends over and raises his haunches, exposing his ass, slick dripping down the backs of his thighs. He thrusts his hips into empty air. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wide, desperate for something, anything.

The bidding starts, from the jostling alphas close to the stage, euro notes held high in white-knuckled fists at the auctioneer. 

The omega moans, desperate, and crawls towards the man with the microphone, begging him to accept a bid. His handler jerks his leash and he falls back, whimpering, shuddering.

Harry drops his head again.

He reaches for Ellis, takes his hand.

He wants to go. He feels sick. Scared. Ashamed. He tries to squeeze the message into Ellis’ fingers - _please take me away from here_ \- but Ellis is talking to Jean.

“I got us a private room, Jean. They’ve got five more out the back, all dripping with it. You can take your pick.”

“Fuck, really?” Jean’s face is flushed, his attention captivated by the stage, but he turns back to Ellis now, eyes flashing.

Ellis pulls Harry onto his knee, says the words Harry’s heard a version of so many times now, to all these potential investors he’s been brought to meet. It’s a little cruder this time, a chill running across Harry as he listens.

“Like I always say, Jean, real success is when you get to chose your own rewards. Not when you have to wait for someone else - your boss, polite society, whoever - to decide what you deserve. This opportunity I’m talking about? Now’s the time to get in on it. It’ll change your life. All this -” he waves at the champagne, the omegas on the stage, at Harry, the expensive watch glinting on his wrist, “ - whatever you’re into... You like the ocean? Maybe get yourself a nice sailing boat? Or, what about a sportscar? Some sweet omega ass to keep you company? It’s all for the taking. Three month return, Jean. Guaranteed.”

“And, what about Harry here, Ellis? What about that?”

Harry feels Ellis go still beneath him. He looks around at Ellis’ face, his heart pounding. Ellis has raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Jean grins back, shrugs at Ellis, a sheen has appeared on his skin since he swallowed the nullifier. “Just a question, yes? Is he for the taking too? A little, how do you put it, sweetner? To close the deal?”

Ellis puts his hands on Harry’s hips, squeezing his fingers into the bones. It makes Harry squirm where he’s sitting on Ellis’ lap. When he moves he realises, his stomach flipping, that he's getting wet - feels his underwear slide damply against his skin. His body's reaction to what's all around -the smells, the alphas - It's instinctual, beyond Harry's control. 

“Well, I guess that’s up to Harry to decide,” Ellis laughs. He runs a hand down along Harry’s spine. “What do you say, darling? You up for a little fun with Jean here?”

Harry can’t bring himself to look up. They’ve done it with other people before, just once, a couple who were friends of Ellis’, in the wine-soaked hours after a dinner party. It had been fun, that time, something they’d stumbled into, laughing the next morning about it all.

It had all felt very different to this, being bargained for like this.

Someone screams from the stage. Harry flinches and curls in on himself, shaking his head, no. No. Not Jean. Not like this.

Harry feels Ellis pat his back.

“No? Guess he’s not feeling it tonight, Jean. But what about that private room? You’ll find something to entertain you there, I’m sure of it.”

Harry exhales in relief, risks a glance up at Jean, sees him glaring back at him. His breath is coming faster, face reddening. The nullifier is kicking in now, he’s about to go into rut.

“Think you are better than them, yes, Harry?” Jean asks, leaning across the table, his face twisting in anger. “You are just the same, you know.”

He nods down at the stage. He reaches over a shaking hand to lift up Harry’s chin, peer into his eyes. His pupils have widened, his breath coming in shallow, ragged huffs. His fingers are hurting Harry where they’re digging into his chin.

“That’s what you’re fucking _for_. Don’t think you’re too good for it.”

Ellis’ hand flies to grip Jean’s wrist, yanking it back from Harry’s face. He keeps twisting Jean’s hand backwards until he’s yelping and on his knees on the floor.

Ellis stands, Harry slipping to the side, and he bends over Jean twisting his wrist further into an angle designed to inflict the most pain.

“Now where are your manners, Jean,” Ellis says calmly, his voice dangerously low, a deep-throated growl. “I strongly suggest you take up my generous offer, go scratch that itch of yours. How about we talk again soon.”

 

Harry keeps a vice-like grip on Ellis’ hand as they leave the VIP area, but is somehow detached from him when they step down into the crowd on the main floor.

Harry hears a someone yell something at him, close to his ear and he flinches, his breath coming now in short, panicky gasps. Ellis doesn’t react. He’s striding steadily forwards, eyes fixed and distant. That mood from earlier has returned, Harry realises, a cold sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

Someone grabs Harry’s wrist as he pushes past but he wrenches himself free and pulls away. He curls in on himself, hunches his shoulders, tries to appear smaller. It feels like he’s got a flashing neon sign over his head, broadcasting his presence - _omega omega omega_.

Harry thinks suddenly of Jeff, wishing he could call him, hear his familiar voice, his low-key chuckle. But he’s so far away - an eleven-hour flight. Harry’s got no one here. Not really. Just Ellis. 

But that’s OK, that’s OK, Harry tells himself. Maybe that’s how it needs to be. He feels like he’s been clinging to Jeff like he’s a life preserver for the last five years, ever since he wrangled a friendship out of the aftermath of their night together. The whole time, at the back of everything, Harry’s had a suspicion that the hidden depths of his real feelings will end up drowning them both.

There’s another touch from a stranger in the crowd, grasping at his thigh. Harry gasps again and manages to find Ellis’ arm, tighten his grip around it. 

_Please don’t forget me now_ , he’s silently begging. _Please don’t go away inside your head. Please look after me._

As if he heard him, Ellis suddenly stops, in the middle of the dance-floor, people crushing all around them. He turns and considers him with his cool blue eyes for a moment. He puts his hands on Harry’s hips, studying his face with an expression of vague curiosity.

“Why are you so afraid?” he asks. The crowd is surging all around them, a sea of bodies, pulled towards the stage like the tide towards the moon. Everyone’s roaring, pushing. It’s so hot, the air so thick, Harry can barely breathe. 

Ellis tilts his head at Harry. He seems so detached from everything around them.

“You’re the one with the power, Harry,” he says then. “You’re the one who has what they want.”

Harry feels himself frown in confusion.

Ellis steps back, releasing Harry. Stands apart from him, a pace away. 

Even in the noise and chaos of the club, Harry somehow hears him when he speaks again, that low measured tone of his.

“Darling. Don’t you feel it? Can’t you see what you can do?” Ellis looks in the direction of the stage, smiling at whatever is happening there. “Stop cowering, sweetheart. Take it. Take control.”

Harry stares at him. He’s frightened. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, what Ellis is trying to tell him. He doesn’t understand why they aren’t leaving.

There’s another alpha next to them. He’s been looking, and has started to edge closer since Ellis stepped away. Harry can feel the intensity of his gaze burn like searing heat into his skin.

“Your problem Harry,” Ellis tells him, his deep voice carrying through the noise, “is that you believe it all, all the lies they tell you - that if you just play by their rules, if you can just be good enough, everything will work out fine. But I think you know. That’s not how it is. Not really. This society of ours - it’s nothing more than a facade. The truth is a lot more … primal.”

Ellis holds his palms upwards to gesture at the people thronging around them, at the alpha staring at Harry.

“This isn’t civilisation. All we’ve got is just a temporary agreement, a ceasefire, a pretense that we’re not in the middle of a battle, the survival of the fittest. You have to choose your weapon and fight for whatever it is you want Harry.”

Ellis steps back again, putting more distance between him and Harry.

“What’s your weapon, Harry?” he calls over the noise, “What gives you power?”

Harry shivers. He knows. 

He glances at that nearby alpha, sees the glazed fixedness of his stare. 

Harry looks back at Ellis, sees his knowing grin.

Harry’s shaking all over, but something in Ellis’ words have pierced into the very depths of him. He knows what he can do. He knows the way people look at him. He likes it, even, when it’s fun, when it’s real. But he’s never tried to use it, not like this, not when he’s scared.

He looks at the strange alpha nearby. He tries to wipe clear his expression, blank out whatever fear he’s feeling. Harry blinks slowly at the guy, licks his lips and tilts his body. He drops a hip, sways to the pounding music, moving to the beat, arching his back and letting his head fall to the side, letting the rhythm rock him over and back. He trails his fingers slowly down his chest, letting them linger over the button of his jeans, then drifting lower to press his palm over his crotch.

He looks up to see. The alpha has stopped in his tracks, eyes widened, mouth dropped open. He’s frozen, mesmerised.

Harry hears Ellis laughing close to his ear. “There you go. I knew you knew. So what do you want? What are you going to fight for?”

Harry looks back over his shoulder at Ellis. He keeps dancing, slowly moving to the beat. He doesn’t know what to say, how to say it.

Ellis moves closer again, slipping an arm around Harry’s waist pulling his body to press into his, moving with him, no air between them.

“Darling. Enough. Enough hiding. Enough waiting. Tell me. What do you want?”

“I want …” Harry says, speaking so quietly there’s no way Ellis could possibly hear him over the music, the crowd.

He’s not sure Ellis could ever really understand the things that Harry wants. How they’ve gotten smaller and smaller with each year that passes. 

The things Harry wants now are reduced to a tired ache inside the marrow of his bones. 

_I want to feel safe._

He turns around inside Ellis arms, pressing face into his neck. He smells so good. Ellis’ chest, pressed against Harry, is firm and solid. His broad hands are on Harry’s back, spread wide they encompass the width of him.

Harry presses his lips softly to the underside of Ellis’ jaw, feels what that does to Ellis’ body. He knows what he can do.

He nudges his thigh into the space between Ellis’ legs, shifting and rubbing up against him, feeling him get hard against his hip.

He nuzzles his face against Ellis’ neck again, bringing his lips close to his ear.

He takes a breath before he speaks again, because saying this out loud - it’s the absolute truth and an absolute betrayal of it at the same time.

“Ellis,” he whispers, moving his open lips against his skin, “I just want to belong to someone.”

 

***

 

_**Present.** _

 

It’s an hour after the fight with Harry and Jeff’s already lost track of where he is on the dark winding roads that lead away from the winery. He rounds a wide bend on the road, taking it too hard, wheels skidding sideways. He grabs white-knuckled at the steering-wheel when the car slides over the white line, jerks it back into the lane, too far, swings it into the other direction, tyres screeching over and back over the asphalt.

Jeff slams on the brakes and the car skids to a halt, sideways, ending in the verge. When he finally comes to a stop, he’s somehow facing the wrong direction.

Jeff flings the door open and gets out, kicking at the tyres. Fucking, fucking car! Fucking road!

He lands one heavy punch into the hood, and pain, singing high and clear, shatters through the haze he’s been in. Some part of him rises up over the scene, looks back down, and takes a picture - oh look, there he is, on his knees, on the side of the road, nursing his throbbing fist into his chest.

 _You sad, little, loser,_ he tells that jerk. _Fucking get it together_. 

 

He spends the rest of the night in his car, sleeping in the front seat in 15 minute bursts, not trusting himself to drive any more in the dark.

Finally the sun crests in an amber orb over the horizon, and Jeff, slowly, gathers himself into consiousness, his body aching all over. He starts the car, gets back on the road, tries to find his way to the freeway.

A sign points to a town, but 15 minutes after the turn-off, all Jeff has encountered is a long line of showrooms, motels, fast-food outlets. It’s early still. Just after 6 am, more or less everything’s closed, until a blinking sign over a 24 hour drugstore prompts him to turn in.

His knuckles are killing him. He could use a painkiller. And coffee.

He wanders through the drug store for a while, tossing stuff into a basket - Dr Pepper, deodorant, an ice-pack.

He’s almost at the checkout when a sign over a stool in the corner catches his attention.

_Check Your Hormone Levels. Instant results._

The assistant’s name is Faith according to her name-badge but since she keeps referring to Jeff as “alpha” or “sir” and dipping her eyes respectfully, he ends up just calling her “ma’am”. He’s filled with a new zeal for Glenne’s reformative campaigning, wanting nothing more than to rid the world of social strata for ever.

“Please take a seat here, alpha.” She bows, for the twentieth time, it feels like.

“OK, that’s …” Jeff snaps, “Could you - please don’t call me that. Sorry I just. I’ve had it with all that shit. We’re all equals right? Sorry but… Sorry.”

She raises her deep brown eyes to his for a moment, then blinks slowly and pulls up his results chart.

“Alright then. Here we have all your levels, and as you can see, it’s all fine. Typical ranges for an alpha of your age. Nothing to worry about at all.”

Faith displays the paper - a long series of charts and statistics. It means nothing to Jeff.

“So, everything’s like, normal?” he scratches at his neck. He feels itchy all over. That’s a sign, right? That something’s unbalanced somewhere, surely? “I thought maybe, something was … That my implant was off or something.”

“Oh?” She casts her eyes over the charts again, scanning for something, “Did something prompt you think that, sir?”

“Well,” Jeff hesitates, but then her calm eyes meet his again. “I’ve been … I’ve been feeling really weird, really angry … I was … I felt like being violent and I said, when I was angry, I said things that … things I shouldn’t have …”

“All right. Well,” she tilts her head at the chart again, “your adrenaline and cortisol levels are a little elevated. So stress management options are something you might need to look into -”

“Yeah, but-” Jeff interrupts her, “I was really fucking awful to someone. Someone I care about and-”

“Sir,” Faith holds up her finger, and gives him a look, “If you’ve done something in anger, then maybe you should try to fix it. Instead of looking for excuses.”

Jeff blinks.

Faith blinks back at him. Colour rises in her cheeks.

“Well you said we were …”

“No, no,” Jeff reassures her. “That’s all right. You’re right.”

“OK honey, look,” She pats his knee. “We all say things sometimes. You know what’s good, though? Saying sorry. Making it right.”

Jeff frowns and feels a dart of pain from his bruised knuckles when he squeezes his fist. It would probably hurt a lot to hit Ellis now, anyway.

“And um, we gotta special right now on flowers?”

Jeff can’t help chucking a little. “Won’t work. He’s allergic.”

“Something else then.”

Jeff scans the store. Sees what he needs.

 

***

 

It takes the rest of the day to go back, because he has to pull over every time he feels himself get riled up again. He goes for walks, drinks water, does some deep-breathing on the top of hillsides. He wants to be fully in control of himself next time he speaks to Harry. He even tried out a few yoga poses under a tree at one point, but that just makes his knuckles throb and then he took offense at the way the goats in the nearby field were looking down their noses at him, so he just got back to his car and his warm Dr Pepper. Judgemental fuckers.

He calls Glenne as soon as he gets back to the winery, gets a sternly delivered status update and indication of Harry’s rough location.

He finds him in the barn with the horses. Harry’s got his elbows resting on the half-door to one of the stalls, his chin propped on his fists, peering into the enclosure.

Jeff draws to a sharp stop when he comes close enough to see him properly.

Harry’s hair, his long dark curls, are all gone, a short crop tight to his ears all that’s left.

He seems to sense Jeff’s presence, shifts on his feet, but doesn’t turn.

“So you’re back.”

“I’m back.”

Harry reaches his hand up to his head and takes it away again, like he was about to flip his hair but has remembered too late that it’s not there any more.

“Are you staying? For the ceremony?” he asks, in a deadened tone. “We sort of need to know. I can ask Gemma to stand in, do the speech. It’ll drive her anxiety crazy, but she’ll do it. It’s just, I should give her some warning -”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do everything, the speech, whatever you need. If you still want.”

Jeff walks a few steps closer but Harry doesn’t turn. When he speaks again, it’s in that same blank way.

“If you could just do the thank you’s, that’ll be enough. You don’t have to say anything you don’t mean.”

Jeff pulls to a stop at that.

“You missed the rehearsal,” Harry continues tonelessly, “Glenne said you’d come back so we just told everyone you were sick. But now you’ve missed the rehearsal so you’re going to have to figure out how to get up to speed.”

“I’ve got your book,” Jeff rushes to say. Harry had given him a copy of _Best Man Duties - an Idiot’s Guide_ weeks ago. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll get there early. Talk to the celebrant.”

“Right. OK then.” Harry still doesn’t turn. “You should pick up the rings. The hotel’s keeping them in their safe. You can ask at reception.”

Jeff takes another couple of steps forward, asks quietly, “So. It’s OK? If I still do it?”

“It’s probably the easiest thing, for everyone.”

Jeff exhales. It’s a start.

He walks the rest of the way to where Harry’s standing, looks over the half-door to see a mare, licking her foal. She nudges the baby in close to her, until it finds her milk, and then she stands quietly, tail flicking, as it feeds from her.

“She’s a good mum,” Harry says, quietly. “They said he’s her first. But she looks like she knows what she’s doing.”

He sniffs, rubs at his nose.

Jeff rummages in his pockets, pulls out the box he bought in the drugstore.

“Um. Here. Take these. I meant to get them on the way up but …”

Harry glances down at the box of _Allerg-eeze_ , freezes for a moment, then reaches for it, crumpling it inside his fist.

“Thanks,” he says in a whisper.

“Harry,” Jeff hears his voice break, “I’m, I’m sorry. What I said, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I … I guess I was just upset, and I took it out on … I’m … I’m just really sorry.”

Harry nods, looking down into the pen.

“It’s OK.”

Jeff grips the top of the stable door too, like it’ll hold him up. Harry’s so close to him but he knows he can’t touch him, like every cell in his body is craving to do. He digs his fingernails into the wood instead.

“I’ll talk to Ellis, if you want … I’ll apologise to him. I am sorry. I really am.”

Harry dips his head, sniffles again, digs his knuckles into his eyes.

“Hey,” Jeff nods at the box still squashed inside Harry’s broad palm, “maybe you should take one of those. I mean - all this hay? The photos -”

“It’s not that, it’s …” Harry shakes his head. “It’s just hormones. I can’t stop it. It keeps happening. They said it might. I can’t help it.”

Jeff stands straighter. 

“Hormones?”

Something breaks over Jeff then, realisation, in a deluge. It all adds up … finally. Harry’s skin lately - that new radiance, his scent - the way it’s changed, the speed of this whole engagement.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Harry? Really? You’re … you’re …”

“Yeah.”

“Oh... wow, Harry.”

“I’m not far along. Only a few weeks. We’re not telling anyone because … it’s too early. I mean, the odds are … it probably won’t even …”

Jeff feels like he’s reeling. “Harry … I … Are you OK? Is everything OK, though?”

“Yeah, so far.” Harry nods at the horse. He hasn’t looked at Jeff once.

Jeff looks at the horse and nods at it too, trying to gather his thoughts. OK then. So this is ... This is _real_. This is really happening. What does he do now? What’s the right thing to do?

“I mean,” he starts, “my sister … She loves her obgyn. I’ll get the name. We’ll set up an appointment and ..”

“It’s OK,” Harry says, sniffling again, “I have someone. Has to be a specialist anyway. For male omegas. Because of how hard it is to carry to term. Because of it not being very likely to work out …”

Harry chokes up and his voice cuts off. 

Jeff takes his elbow, leads him to a nearly bale of straw, gets him to sit on it.

“Hey, don’t think like that. It’s going to be OK. Everything’s going to be OK.”

Harry sobs openly now, hunched over his knees, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Jeff. I can’t … You don’t know … how much I …”

“Shhh … it’s OK.” Jeff rubs his back. He still can’t quite take this in. If Harry’s pregnant then … that’s it. That’s everything. He’s Ellis’ now. In every way. Every rule in existence - whether bound in law or social convention - confirms the clanging certainty of it.

“I just,” Harry looks at him, finally, for the first time since Jeff came back. His eyes, still wet, are wide and frightened. “I don’t think I can do this. If you’re not … I need you to be here, on my side. I need …”

“I will. I’ll be here for you. Always. I promise. Always.”

A new set of tears spill from Harry’s eyes. Jeff reaches to brush them away with his thumbs.

“Harry,” he exhales, holding Harry’s face in his hands, gazing like it’ll help him absorb this news, “you’re having a baby! You’re really going to have a baby!”

“Yeah,” Harry hiccups, looks up at Jeff again. He tries to smile. “Shit. I mean, maybe? It’s probably not going to work out though. Ellis said to try not to get attached or … The statistics are ... Fuck, it’s scary.”

Jeff sits beside him on the straw bale, takes his hand. 

Harry leans against him. He’s all softness, warmth. His bony hand seems delicate inside Jeff’s, a translucency to his skin next to Jeff’s tan. This new version of his scent makes Jeff think of new petals, fragile and diaphanous under a pale spring sunlight.

They sit there quietly, side-by-side, until Jeff remembers to say, “Congratulations Harry. This is amazing. You’re going to be amazing.”

“Thanks, I, I know it’s … a surprise.”

“Yeah,” Jeff exhales, “very surprising … God …” 

“I didn’t even have a heat,” Harry mutters, still sniffling, half-laughing. “We wanted to try that, the … you know, the sex... like that. But I just got knocked up instead. Typical me, right?”

Jeff tries to laugh with him. Neither of them sound very convincing.

“Yer an idiot Harry!” Jeff tries for his best ever Hagrid.

Harry pulls back to take a look at Jeff’s face, eyes narrowed.

“Yer up the duff, Harry!” Jeff tries again.

“Stop doing that.” Harry tells him, shaking his head seriously, “I’ve told you. You don’t do it right.”

Jeff shrugs at him. Harry’s rolling his eyes. At least he’s not crying any more. His Hagrid can’t be all that bad.

 

A question edges into the silence that follows. Now that Harry’s mentioned it, the sex, Jeff can’t ignore it’s presence any more.

“Do you promise me,” Jeff can barely bring himself to ask, “That it’s your choice? That stuff that happened last night? That it’s fun for you?”

“Yes Jeffrey,” Harry sounds impatient, even through another one of those half-laughs. “Of course. It’s sex. Sex feels good. Everybody likes sex.”

“Not everyone.” 

Harry turns to him again, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Glenne doesn’t.” Jeff offers as evidence, hopes she’ll forgive him for telling Harry this.

Harry frowns at him, perplexed.

“She doesn’t. Ever. She’s … That’s not something she ever wants. She told me last year.”

Harry looks at him carefully for a moment, taking it in, in his usual slow, considering way. “I didn’t know that.”

“She doesn’t like to tell people. It’s hard to get people to understand. For alphas, maybe especially. We’re supposed to be all about the breeding and perpetuating the stock and all that. People don’t like it, don’t get it when you’re not … like, when you’re different …”

Harry nods, his expression thoughtful. 

“Well, I’m glad that that’s who she is. I think it’s great. I’m happy for her.”

He searches for Jeff’s eyes again, “I’m a bit different too. Can you try to be happy for me?”

Jeff’s suddenly frantic, his heart has starting pounding and he lets go of Harry’s hand so that he won’t crush his fingers and grasps at the scratchy straw beneath them instead. He can’t quite bring himself to look at him when he asks, “Do you love him?”

Harry nods. Doesn’t even pause to think about it.

“I think so. Yeah. I do. I care about him a lot. He’s … He hasn’t ever had what we do, Jeff. You don’t know … his Mum died when he was really young. He’s been on his own since he was fourteen. Everything he has, he’s built for himself. All on his own.”

Jeff swallows hard at the tone of admiration in Harry’s voice.

“I think that,” Harry says, his voice steadier now, the tears stopped. “I just think, that this,” - he puts a hand low on his stomach - “I’d like to give him this. I don’t think he even knows now, how much it’ll change everything for him, how important it’s going to be, a family of his own, you know? I think it’ll bring him some contentment. Change how he sees the world.”

“And you,” Jeff whispers, “You’ll be content. You’ll be happy.”

It isn’t even a question. Harry with a baby. His own baby. Soft, funny, caring, ridiculous Harry with his own baby to soak up all that sunshiny love of his. Of course he will.

“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding at the floor, “I hope. I hope it happens. That it goes OK, and that I don’t, I don’t … I just … I can’t even imagine if you aren’t part of it all Jeff. I mean. You’ll be the godfather … and, and … be silly Uncle Jeff and … I just. Please Jeff,” Harry’s voice starts to get ragged again, “please be my friend. I’m so sorry about everything. I wish so much that … If things could be different, then … you’ve no idea how much I … but. This is what’s best. If you can just, fucking please, please stay with me.”

“I will. ‘Course I will.” With a twist in his stomach, Jeff resolves to file away all of Harry’s unfinished sentences, lock them up tightly, and never open that door to look at them.

Harry takes Jeff’s hand back from where he’s gripping at the straw and squeezes his fingers.

“But, for the record,” Jeff tells him, needing to get one point straight very urgently, “I’m going to be the cool uncle, not the funny one, not the silly one. So jot that down, right now - it’s cool uncle Jeff.”

Harry smiles a small smile. “You keep telling yourself that. This foetus hasn’t even grown limbs yet, and it’s still cooler than you.”

“You don’t need limbs to be cool, Harry. That’s totally ableist of you.” Jeff reckons Glenne would be proud of him right now for that score. He glances pointedly at the top of Harry’s head. “You might need hair though. What the hell happened here?”

Harry’s mouth drops open his and eyes start to well up again.

“Oh for fucks sake Harry,” Jeff shakes his head at him and sighs, “Is this what it’s going to be like for the next nine months? There won’t be enough Kleenex in the world …”

“So don’t be mean to me!” Harry sniffles into his sleeve. “Tell me my hair is nice. I’m very vulnerable right now, you know.”

And then he sobs harder because Jeff can see that just saying that out loud has made it truer for him, so there’s no option but putting his arms around him and hugging him.

“Your haircut looks very nice, Harry,” he tells him, “it’s really pretty.”

“Fuck off, Jeff,” Harry mumbles into his chest. “I have a mirror.”

Jeff laughs. “It’ll grow.”

“It’s my _wedding_ ,” Harry wails, “and I look like a rare-breed polish chicken!”

“You look like what?”

Harry sits up, sniffing again, and wiping his eyes.

“I’ve been googling - here, you have look at these things.” He pulls out his phone and shows Jeff the results of his image search for _creatures with ridiculous hair_.

Jeff snorts and bumps his forehead into Harry’s shoulder.

“Those chickens rock, dude! Lemme see.”

He takes Harry’s phone and scrolls through the chicken pictures, snickering. It’s a little bit of a performance, his laughter, even though the chickens are quite funny, but what else can Jeff do? What else can Jeff do except take whatever it is that Harry can offer him? 

If that’s punk-rock chicken pictures, then Jeff’s going to take the punk-rock chicken pictures.

When he looks up, Harry’s gazing at him, forehead crumpled, eyes worried.

Jeff looks away again, and holds back a sigh.

Tomorrow looms like a storm cloud.

“OK,” he tells Harry, “Enough.”

He’s the best man. Harry needs his best man. He said so.

Tonight Jeff’s going to have to read that book. And write a speech. Fuck.

“Bedtime, baldy. Big day tomorrow.”

Harry inhales sharply. “It’s OK? You’ll be there? Right? You’ll be there for me?”

“Harry,” Jeff stands up. Can’t quite look at him right then for some reason. “I will. I promise. Always.”

…

 

Always.

It’s _always_ that night, hugging Harry goodnight and watching him meander across the garden to his private villa where Ellis is a silhouette in the doorway.

It’s _always_ the next morning, when he’s tightening Harry’s tie for him, turning him to the mirror, patting his shoulders and smiling. Telling him to breathe. Telling him he looks great.

It’s _always_ while Anne walks Harry down the aisle, when he smiles at Ellis kissing her cheek, when he steps forward and they take the rings from the velvet cushion he’s holding.

It’s _always_ when he stands before the dessert course. When everyone laughs at the jokes Glenne helped him write at 2 am that morning, when Ellis stands and shakes his hand and tells him _good job_ and Harry mouths _thank you_ while his eyes shine too, too bright.

Its _always_ watching Harry and Ellis drive away in their vintage Jag, Anne tucked tight under his arm, kissing her head when he feels her breath start to stutter into jagged sobs.

It’s _always_ on the way back to the city when he has to pull over, vomit into dry leaves on the side of the road, Glenne’s car pulling in behind him, blinkers flashing.

It’s always. 

Always.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry swings wide open the door of his new penthouse apartment with a smile so brightly glinting it could spark wildfires. 

“Hiiii!”

Jeff can’t breathe for a second. 

Like, he’s fine and everything. 

He’d talked it all through with Glenne. Worked through all the _feelings_. He’d made her swear fealty to a plan where she would accompany him through a series of short encounters with Harry, gradually increasing in duration, until everything was back to normal. Gradual exposure until full innoculation is achieved. 

Careful management. Jeff is confident that that’s what this is all going to come down to. And in the end, everything will be absolutely fine.

But despite all his considered psychological preparation, Jeff hadn’t expected to be swamped with _this_ particular emotion at seeing Harry for the first time after the wedding. It’s been two months and now everything Jeff’s been feeling, all that turmoil, has condensed one single emotion - this surge of simple happiness.

Jeff can only smile back at Harry’s bright greeting, wordlessly, hold his wide, shining eyes.

“Here you go, happy housewarming,” Glenne says distractedly kissing Harry’s cheek and handing him the plant they’d hurriedly bought on the way over. Her mouth has dropped open at the huge, cavernous space behind him. “Holy shit, Harry.”

She walks inside, leaving Jeff and Harry to trail behind, her heels clicking over the polished granite floor tiles. She looks tiny inside the vast, double-height room. In front of Glenne, huge floor-to-ceiling windows frame the neighboring high rises and the cityscape below.

“This place is incredible!”

Jeff steps further inside too until he’s standing in the middle of the room, opposite a gaping, black slate fireplace. Harry and Ellis have been back for a few weeks, but unpacked boxes are still stacked neatly against the polished concrete feature wall.

There’s a long balcony outside - more slate, a fire pit and beside that,un-cushioned loungers. Between the planters, there’s the incongruous sight of a faded, patched-up sofa. Jeff recognises it as the one he’d helped Harry haul between various house-shares and rentals over the years. 

Inside though, the whole place is gleaming and empty - except for one corner, close to the boxes. There, a half-full mug of tea is steaming next to a yoga mat, a Laughing Buddha statue beside it, along with Harry’s journal.

Harry is looking from Glenne to Jeff and back again. Everyone has somehow ended up standing very far apart. Slowly, his smile fades.

“You hate it, don’t you?” Harry says eventually, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s just … Like, it’s great but … I dunno,” Glenne says, looking across the expanse of shiny floor slates, her hands on her hips, “maybe you should think about decluttering…?”

“No but really,” Jeff says, as Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, “ignore her. This place is incredible. I mean, who hasn’t dreamed of living inside an aircraft hanger?”

Harry’s face scrunches up and he laughs. The sound echoes against all the gray, hard surfaces.

“It’ll be cosier soon,” he says hurriedly, “we’ve got furniture ordered but it’s coming from Italy so it’s going to take a few weeks. We’re getting a piano! Ellis said he’ll get one of his assistants to rent us some temporary stuff, but I dunno. It’s been fun like this. We’re sleeping on my old mattress. It’s sorta like camping!”

As Jeff tries and fails to envisage Ellis doing something as undignified as sleeping on a floor, Harry walks over to the corner and puts their plant down beside his yoga mat, shifting the angle back and forth until some aesthetic standard he’s set has been satisfied. Jeff’s pretty sure its leaves tremble as he moves it, like it is intimidated by the vastness of its new location. He sympathizes. It’s such a little thing. This is a very big apartment.

“Who needs stuff, anyway, you know?” Harry says, making one final adjustment to the plant’s position. The jewels in his rings glint on his fingers, and Jeff agrees with their appreciation of irony. “Thailand really got me into the practice of non-attachment.” 

Harry scoops up his notebook then, folding over the scribbled pages and stuffing it in his back pocket. He tugs at the end of his untucked shirt as he straightens, flapping it so it’s loose and falling away from his body. He looks directly at Jeff, colour in his cheeks. Jeff only then realises he’d been staring, looking at where the slight bump had been providing a gentle curve to the fall of his shirt.

Harry smiles at him again, “Anyway. Hi. Welcome.” 

Jeff’s arms feel weird. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to hug Harry any more or not. Harry seems to provide the answer by keeping his distance and bending to pick up the little Buddha statue and waving it at Jeff across the room.

“Say hi to Buddha, Jeff! He’s extremely fat and is very happy about it. See? Very body-positive. I love him. I got him at this amazing temple in Bangkok. Bangkok’s crazy. It’s the most incredible place. So spiritual. But really hectic too? And then, like, the night-life was really seedy. Well, only some parts, and the rest is so fucking high-end I didn’t think they’d let me in. It’s mad. When we got to Singapore we stayed in this old colonial hotel, it was such a throw-back. I felt like I was in a Merchant Ivory movie. Oh, and I got to visit this elephant sanctuary place one day! In Malaysia. Elephants are brilliant.”

Harry bites his lip and stops talking. Jeff takes a deep breath on his behalf. He can’t quite figure out how to respond. Elephants are completely brilliant, and there’s not much to add, really, to that particular topic.

Jeff watches Harry’s eyes travel over and back from Glenne to Jeff again, a flicker appearing in his smile when no one says anything for a moment.

Fuck. This is exactly what Jeff was afraid would happen. Awkwardness. Glenne told him everything would be OK and now she’s been revealed to be a know-nothing spoofer and that leaves Jeff with exactly no one left to trust.

Harry looks down at his Buddha for a moment, holding it low in front of his stomach, right in front of that little bump, before he shakes himself, replaces it on the floor and smiles brightly at them again. “Anyway. It was a great trip! It went so fast. I can’t believe I’ve been gone for two months. So tell me - what’s been happening? How are you two?”

Glenne catches Jeff’s eye behind Harry’s back. She tilts her head and makes a grimace that Jeff belatedly realises is her reminding him to smile.

Which is all very well but she’s not the one trying to relearn how to do all this. Being _just friends_ with Harry. 

But Jeff did it before - before he nearly ruined everything. He’s now a fervent believer in bottling things up. Subduing emotions is very like trying to swallow down the urge to vomit when you’re no where near a toilet - unpleasant but very necessary for the sake of everyone around you. He can do it. He has a plan. It’ll be fine.

“Wow, it sound’s great, Harry,” he manages to say, thinks he’s even smiling as he does. 

“It all sounds amazing!” Glenne calls over to him from the window. “But we’re glad you’re back. We missed you.”

Harry’s expression softens and he rushes over and hugs her, his long arms wrapping her up tight, “I missed you too.”

He bends to bury his face in her shoulder, not looking up at Jeff. And Jeff’s definitely pissed off that the rules are that Glenne gets to hug him and he doesn’t. 

Or …

Maybe this is better? Is that sick, twisting wrench in his stomach actually the sensation of relief? 

God, this is all so difficult.

Jeff’s probably going to have to start wearing a stronger deodorant because that advert that said stress sweat smells worse than work-out sweat. He’s stressed. This is definitely stressful. He must stink.

Glenne eventually wriggles free from Harry, leaning back to ruffle his curls.

“This is growing really fast!” she says, tugging one curl to its full length, until it springs free and bounces back.

“Yeah! Must be all the vitamins I’m knocking back these days for the ... to …”

Harry stops up short. 

Glenne smiles at him, pats his arm, breezily lets Harry leave his sentence unfinished, turning back to the window. “Hey - I can see my office building from here!”

And ha! Jeff is so done with Glenne right now really, because, wow - she’s upholding this superstition of not mentioning a male omega’s pregnancy, in case of bad luck? Glenne? His super-rational, reformative Glenne? That’s it then. Jeff’s totally on his own here.

“Really?” Harry looks where she’s pointing, “Where? We could do, like, mirror signals at each other or something.”

“Or, just continue to use our phones, since that’s been working fine.”

“Glenne,” Harry protests, “how are we going to communicate in the zombie apocalypse? We need to start practicing alternatives now. Think ahead.”

Jeff laughs. The sound bounces against the room’s hard surfaces, too loud. It even startles Jeff a little. But Harry grins over his shoulder.

Jeff smiles back at him. This is good. This is fine. Smiling and laughter is definitely progress. And also, finally, a sensible topic of conversation has arisen that he can contribute to.

“Yeah, Glenne,” Jeff says, moving towards them, “zombie preparation 101. Communication via signaling or morse code. Get up to speed. Or do you _want_ to get left behind, when we make out for the safe haven in the countryside?”

Harry’s grinning again so Jeff doesn’t even care about Glenne’s withering expression.

Everything’s fine.

 

 

“There you go,” Glenne says, after they’ve left and and walked together round the corner of the block. “I knew it would be OK. Seeing him for the first time was bound to be a bit awkward, but that went great, I think.”

“Yeah.” Jeff frowns at the sidewalk. 

They had sat outside on the balcony for the rest of their visit, squashed together on Harry’s old sofa, and Harry served them sandwiches on paper plates from an Italian deli he’s found down the street. They hadn’t stayed long - both of them on lunch breaks. But despite that, Harry seemed to be on a mission to fill the short time-frame with as many words as his deliberate speech patterns could have possibly compressed.

He’d kept talking about having a party - 

“Ellis thinks we need to wait for the furniture, before inviting people over, but I think we should just go ahead now and have everyone sitting on milk-crates or something like that. Ice in garbage bins. Wouldn’t that be funny? All Ellis’ business friends … drinking out of red cups?! But he wants all my friends over too, of course. When the furniture comes. I think he wants it all perfect for everyone. I think he’s sorta too concerned about impressing everyone. But you guys, don’t care, do you? If everything isn’t perfect?”

Jeff’s more than familiar with less-than-perfect. And Glenne stepped painfully on his toes when he opens his mouth to say so. 

They’d both murmured encouragement for Harry’s party plans and by the time it came to leave, they each hugged him goodbye, so that was obviously an indication of personal growth and maturity on everyone’s part. Even if Jeff did have to concentrate on making sure his arms around Harry didn’t linger too long, were light and glancing against his body. 

And he did sort of feel as if he had swallowed an ice cube when he looked back over his shoulder before getting into the elevator, and had to watch Harry disappearing back inside into that vast, echoey, empty space.

 

Glenne links his arm.

“It’ll get easier now. There’s no way you guys won’t be friends. It’ll all work out.”

That’s what Jeff’s been saying. He knows.

“You think he seemed OK though?” Jeff asks her. It’s not that there was anything in their short meeting to make him think otherwise. He just wants to hear Glenne’s reassurance.

“Yeah, sure,” her voice is light, high. “He seemed really … he was fine.”

Jeff kicks at a cigarette butt on the sidewalk in front of him. 

Good. 

He’s fine too.

 

Jeff isn’t fine. 

Jeff is in his office with his thumping forehead placed on the cool hard surface of his desk.

It’s been a bad day, at the tail end of a bad week. And he’s pretty sure if he sets foot outside of the room right now there’s a strong possibility someone on his team will take a shot at him.

He keeps fucking up lately, is the thing. Forgetting appointments, stumbling over presentations, drifting off during meetings. They were down to a final pitch to manage a new merchandising contract for a huge venue, when he messed it all up by going completely blank on the arena’s name mid-way through.

He should probably get back into the habit of going to the gym every morning. That used to always clear his head. But he’s just been too tired, what with all the not sleeping. He’s been staying too late in the office - his lack of concentration means he’s having to put in extra hours just to tread water. By the time he gets home every night, his brain is whirring with all the stuff he didn’t get done, and the only thing that slows it is dousing it generously with alcohol. Which, come to think of it, is probably playing some kind of role in all the non-gym going, non-sleeping, and non-focusing.

He swears on a daily basis he’ll get his shit together tomorrow. And if tomorrow is a snakey little charlatan who never actually arrives then that’s an irritating fact Jeff can do nothing about.

Someone knocks on the office door and Jeff snaps upright, hovering his fingers over his keyboard, frowning at the computer screen. A convincing picture of managerial prowess. He hopes.

“Yes?”

Allison, his P.A. pops her head in, not meeting his eyes. She’s getting to the end of her tether with him, he knows. He hopes she doesn’t quit. Her careful diary management and reminder alerts are the only things saving his ass these days. He should probably get her some flowers or something.

“Your friend Jamie just called up from reception, asked if you could go down?”

“Oh,” Jeff glances at the computer screen in front of him, twenty-five new emails in the last hour. The fall-out from that disastrous pitch he’d delivered. “Could you ask him to come up here?”

“He specifically said to tell you that the only thing that will persuade him to drag his ass upstairs is if you’ll lick it when he gets here.”

Jeff blinks at her blank delivery. Yeah, he should definitely get her some flowers.

 

Jamie’s outside on the street standing beside a shiny vintage Jag. 

He beams at Jeff when he sees him approach, spreads his arms towards the car in a “ta-da” gesture.

“Oh Jamie, you shouldn’t have…” Jeff says drolly.

“I didn’t, don’t worry, this baby is all mine.” Jamie pats the roof, his eyes shining bright. “Just picked up the keys this morning.”

“Seriously?” Jeff comes closer. “Hey, is this the ‘68? Fuck! It’s perfect, too? How the hell did you afford this?”

“Ellis!” Jamie beams back at Jeff. “He’s my investment manager now. The dude knows his shit, Jeff! He swore he’d get me a 15% return in three months and here’s the result …” Jamie pets at his car again, gazing at it fondly, like it’ll start purring.

“What? That’s crazy …15%?! But … Since when did you have the funds to invest anywhere, Jamie?” Jeff frowns at him, too familiar with Jamie’s constant complaints about meeting his student loan repayments to have ever assumed he had surplus cash lying about.

“Oh, I just cashed in those bonds my grandmother left me and my sister? My folks always told me to hold onto them for a rainy day, but I was talking to Ellis at the pre-wedding thing, and he made a good case - bonds are for baby boomers and cowards. And look at this! He’s the real shit, man. Fucking midas touch, I swear! You should talk to him! Can you get away? I want to take this baby out to the hills, let her loose.”

“Nah, can’t today, bro. Too much going on…” Jeff thumbs behind him where he can feel the amount of work he’s got to sort out looming like a ghoul in the attic. “Congratulations, though. Fuck - she’s a beaut!”

 

When he’s waved Jamie away, and returned upstairs, Jeff stands inside his office window, mind whirring again. Must be nice to be good at what you do. To have your brilliance transform other people’s lives. Is Ellis going to win every secret thing Jeff wishes for? 

There’s a bottle of whiskey hidden in a filing cabinet in the corner - a gift he never got around to taking home. Jeff tries to ignore the increasing urge to just dive into it, let it drown out all his failures, hand over the keys of his life to someone who can drive it properly. 

 

Someone must open a window in the building opposite or something because light glints there suddenly, making Jeff think about Harry’s joke about mirror signals.

Since the lunch in the new apartment, they’ve only met up once in the weeks since Harry’s been back - an after-work dinner with Glenne at a place near her office. Jeff can’t really remember too much about it because he’d got there early and accidentally finished the first bottle of wine by himself, waiting for them to show. Then he also finished most of the second one because he’d forgotten Harry wasn’t drinking, and Glenne wasn’t in the mood, and it seemed a waste to just leave it behind.

Jeff’s been feeling a little embarrassed. It isn’t that he’d done anything awful or anything. He just has a very clear recollection, standing out from the blur, of the look Harry had given him when he’d staggered against the doorframe on the way out. His eyes were searching, worried.

Pity.

What an unhelpful emotion to be the subject of.

He knows Harry and Glenne went to the movies last week, without him. It bugs him suddenly. He hasn’t actually properly hung out with Harry in weeks and weeks. Or, actually, now he thinks about it … since before the wedding. So that would make it months…

He decides there and then to call Harry and to arrange to go and do something fun, like they always used to. Go play golf or catch a ball game or something. Fuck the plan. He has to figure out how to get it all back, that “almost enough” he had with Harry. Because what he has now is slowly destroying him.

And he made a promise after all.

Always.

 

“ _Jeff?_ ” 

Harry answers his call straight away, doesn’t even give him a chance to say hello.

“ _Jeff? Can you… are you free? I need … Can you come get me?_ ” 

His voice is hurried and panicky. Jeff can hear his breath catch as he inhales raggedly.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“ _I’m at the clinic. I thought … I thought something was wrong. But, it’s OK. I’m OK. I swear. It’s just … my card’s fucked or something and I can’t pay. I don’t know why. I have no… I’m stuck. And Ellis is in Europe. I called the bank but … they won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what to do. Jeff - I can’t even get home, and they’re all looking at me like I’m, I dunno … I can’t … I ..._ ”

“Give me the address, Harry. I’ll be right there.”

 

When he pulls up outside the clinic, 20 minutes later, Harry is sitting on the steps outside, pinching at his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” he says as Jeff gets out of the car “I’m really sorry about this.”

He stands and Jeff has to blink to check he’s seeing things right because Harry’s bump is _really_ prominent now. Unless there’s an actual basketball stuck under his shirt. How long has it actually been? Harry even puts his hand on the small of his back as he straightens, like a pregnant person in a sitcom. Shit - Harry’s pregnant. Of course Jeff has known this for a while but … it’s hitting him now, properly. Harry is really fucking pregnant … fuck. Someone needs to take care of him.

“Harry. Are you alright?” Jeff rushes forward, stopping up short when Harry takes a step backwards.

“Yeah, sorry. But” Harry seems embarrassed, which strikes a pang of pity in Jeff’s chest. He tries not to let it show. “My card … I dunno … I can’t get it to work. All the accounts are in Ellis’ name now and maybe I need a new one or something? And I just freaked out because … when I called they were asking for passwords and crap and I was freaking out …”

“No, Harry, you said you thought something was wrong? What happened?” Jeff doesn’t know why the hell Harry’s talking about bank cards. He looks pale, tired. Jeff needs to know if it’s OK to take him home. Because he needs to take him home, tuck him up, safe and snug.

“I, um, … this morning, I thought there was bleeding, and I … I had these pains? But it’s OK. Everything’s OK. I’m just supposed to rest up. They gave me some shots. I just got a bit scared.”

Jeff feels his fingers coil into fists. Harry shouldn’t be here for that on his own. That’s not a little thing.

“Ellis is away? You should have called me. You know you can call me. Anytime.”

“I’m sorry, I...” Harry stands aside to let a laughing couple pass by him on the steps. The alpha has her hand on her partner’s bump and the women are smiling into each others’ eyes.

“Can we go now, please?” Harry says to Jeff, turning his face away, closing his eyes. “Sorry. Could I just borrow enough to pay for the appointment? I’m really sorry to ask. I’ll pay you back. And if we could just go then, that’d be great.”

 

“You don’t need to come up.” Harry says the second Jeff parks in the basement of his apartment building.

He’s been quiet and pensive the whole drive home, switching on the radio so they don’t talk, staring out the window.

“I’m coming up,” Jeff announces. His voice is a lot more decisive than he’s feeling.

“You really don’t need to,” Harry says again, not sounding quite as definite about it as before. Which makes Jeff’s mind up for him.

“I’m coming up. I’ll just make you some tea. And then I’ll leave and you can take a nap. How about that?”

Harry nods at his lap. Eventually.

“OK.” He whispers.

 

The apartment isn’t any more furnished now than it was when Jeff and Glenne first visited, ages ago. Harry’s old sofa has been moved inside, opposite that slate fireplace. A stack of books are acting as a make-shift coffee table and a gigantic TV is on the floor, propped against the opposite wall. Otherwise, that huge room is still empty and echoing.

It doesn’t mean anything, Jeff tells himself. It is a completely insignificant indication of absolutely nothing.

Jeff wanders to one of the doorways - sees the kitchen area. Lucky first time. It’s all chrome and steel and gray shininess like everywhere else in the apartment. The cooker has at least eight burners. He lights the gas under a dented kettle that’s decorated with painted flowers - Harry’s. He remembers them finding it at a yard sale Harry had dragged him to one Saturday a couple of years ago. Jeff spent the morning stopping Harry buying things of questionable hygiene, including a suitcase full of someone’s old lingerie, to Harry’s giggling protests. They’d laughed a lot that day. 

He finds a stash of tea boxes in one of the cupboards, examines them with increasing confusion. None of the flavors seem like things people should be injesting but he goes for the _stinging nettle_ because that box is the most ragged so Jeff reckons it must be Harry’s favorite. 

“Is it supposed to smell like this?” Jeff asks Harry anxiously when he hands over the cup. Harry’s curled into a corner of the sofa, his shoes kicked onto the floor in front of him. “It seems a bit funky. Did I make it right?”

Harry takes a sip and makes a face. “You did great. Unfortunately, this is exactly what it’s supposed to be like.”

He still looks so pale. It’s making Jeff want to tear the walls down with his bare hands.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. Food might be more helpful than walllessness, after all. “I can make you something? Or - I can get you a sandwich from that deli from before? They were really tasty? Or something sweet? Frozen-yoghurt? You want some frozen-yoghurt, maybe?”

Harry looks up at Jeff hovering in front of him, gets a blank look on his face.

“How come you called me?” Harry asks, suddenly. “Did you need something?”

“Oh I,” Jeff blinks, trying to remember. There was a time when they called each other all the time, for no reason at all. “I think I was going to ask you to come out to play golf of something. But, can you even do that any more? Since you’ve got so … roundy.”

Harry bows his head to take another sip of tea.

“No, I can’t play golf right now,” he says slowly, “Or drink espresso. Or eat blue cheese or … fucking shellfish… ”

He stops himself, takes a breath. When he speaks again, it’s quieter. “If this all goes wrong, I guess at least I can to order in. I’m going to sit on the floor, and just gorge myself on all the raw shellfish and blue cheese and chicken liver paté and coffee I can get my hands on.”

Jeff sinks into the opposite corner of the sofa. Makes a face at Harry. “Well, that all sounds puke-tastic. You’re on your own there.”

Harry doesn’t smile. 

“So, you’re over half-way there now, right?” Jeff tries again. “It won’t be for much longer. Harry, it’ll be all worth it, in the end. Just keep thinking about that. So what do you reckon - boy or girl? Have you lists of names yet?”

Harry dips his head over his cup again so Jeff can’t see his face.

“You’re not supposed to ask. You’re not supposed to say anything like that. It’s bad luck.”

His voice is so quiet Jeff can barely hear him.

“I know, but … it’s just a weird superstition right? And anyway. It’s just us. It doesn’t count if it’s just us?”

Harry frowns at his tea.

“Is it … is it to stop me getting my hopes up or something?” Harry doesn’t look up when he speaks. “Because of the odds? Do people think it’ll be easier if … if I were to lose it, that I haven’t talked about it too much? Because... It’s just … I don’t think it would really work out that way.”

No, Jeff thinks, it probably wouldn’t.

“I don’t care if I ever get to eat blue cheese ever again. I really don’t.” 

His voice is all crackly and broken. Jeff swallows the lump in his own throat.

“I know.”

“You know, this woman came up to me in the grocery store the other day - took my hand and said she’d pray for me. But she didn’t look in my eyes once. That’s weird, right? To have strangers praying for you, and not mentioning the reason why.”

Harry sighs.

“I don’t know if she was praying for everything to work out OK, or for me to be OK when it all goes wrong.”

“Hey … don’t … it might not go wrong Harry…”

“Yeah, ‘cos everything else in my life works out so well…”

Jeff stares at his bowed head. Shit. He can see by Harry’s uneven breathing that he’s struggling not to cry.

“What happened today? Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry shakes his head, takes a slurp of tea and swallows hard. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Harry,” Jeff tells him, speaking softly, “you can. To me, you can.”

Harry starts pinching at his lip again. He still doesn’t look at Jeff. 

“Are they good at the clinic?” Jeff’s going to get him talking if it kills him. “Do you like everyone there?”

Harry shrugs, starts to talk, quiet and slow. It’s something.

“Like, my doctor’s great but … she keeps reminding me about the statistics, to prepare for the worst. I suppose she’s trying to help. And then today, she wasn’t there and - the other doctor - they acted like I was over-reacting. Because of course it’s supposed to hurt and be scary, and what kind of stupid omega am I?”

“It’s hurts?”

“Yeah! Like, everything hurts. My back aches. I get cramps all the time - my stomach, my legs. I’m all lumpy and cranky and these weird veins are appearing. I know that … I know Ellis isn’t attracted to me like this. But at least the puking’s stopped, I suppose. I keep seeing all these other pregnant people - and they’re all being so graceful and elegant about it. I wish I could do that but …”

Harry drifts off. His breath catches when he starts speaking again.

“And then, this morning, and I thought, that this is it. I’m losing her now, and I … I _did_ try to be prepared but … And now this thing with the bank. Everything had to change to Ellis’ name. Like, even if that’s the law, they should still talk to spouses, shouldn’t they? But they wouldn’t even though I _told_ them … And I just , I just wish my Mum was here. I wish I had someone who … who just knows … what this is like …”

Jeff puts his hand on the only part of Harry he can reach - his foot, stretched next to him on the sofa. 

“Shit Harry. That’s all … I’m sorry it’s hard. Just hang in there. It’ll be OK.”

“OK.” Harry sniffs. 

Harry’s foot twitches inside of Jeff’s hand. He’d been absently squeezing it he realises.

“You want a foot rub?” Sit-coms have provided Jeff with the full extent of all he knows about pregnancies, but they have to have some basis in fact, right? Surely they pay researchers and stuff? “I think pregnant people are supposed to get lots of foot rubs. I think that’s standard in the rider.”

Harry doesn’t say anything so Jeff just goes ahead and pulls Harry’s foot into his lap, cupping his heel and stroking his thumbs along the sole. He hasn’t ever really done this before, but tries to figure it out, keeping his touch firm, pushing gently over the arch into the fleshy pad above, squeezing gently along the soft part at the back of his heel. He glances up at Harry when he hears a tiny sigh, finds him slumped sideways against the back of the sofa, watching with half-closed eyes. 

After a while, Jeff switches his attention to the other foot, and when he next looks up Harry eyes are fully closed, and he’s so breathing deeply and steadily Jeff thinks he’s asleep for a minute.

He carefully lifts Harry’s foot and places it on the cushion beside him, cupping his ankle for just a second, staring at Harry’s unconscious face.

Harry’s eyes blink slowly open, stare at Jeff’s.

“You hate feet.” His voice is a lazy, sleepy mumble.

Jeff shrugs. He’d forgotten for a moment actually. It didn’t seem that bad.

“Thank you.” Harry sighs.

Jeff nods now, looking down at his lap.

“Jeff?” Harry’s voice is still whispery quiet.

“Yeah Harry?”

“Are you … seeing anyone? Dating, I mean.”

Jeff’s head shoots up, gapes at Harry. Eventually he manages to shake his head.

“Why not? You should,” Harry whispers, eyes still half-lidded.

Jeff shakes his head at the floor. He gives one foot rub and this is what Harry thinks about? How he should be touching someone else?

“You want me to?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, closing his eyes again, burying his face into the cushioned sofa-back. His voice is barely audible when he mutters again, “You should have someone. Someone good. Like you.”

He slumps further down and curls up, settling into sleep. 

Jeff isn’t sure he hears him right when he mutters again because his mouth is pressed into the cushion. It doesn’t make much sense anyway - “That’s … that was the whole point …”

 

Jeff stays quietly with Harry for a while - pulls a throw from the back of the sofa down over Harry’s body, and tucks him in, just like he’d wanted to earlier.

He wonders for a while if he should try to get Harry to move into his bedroom, but he seems out for the count, so leaves him be, and brings the cup into the kitchen. He stands, rubbing his forehead. He’s exhausted and not able to think about anything, has a headache again. 

He should probably go back to work - he just rushed out without any explanation. They must think he’s completely on the brink. But when he moves back to the living room, hears Harry’s snuffled snores from the sofa, it doesn’t seem right to just walk out.

It’s then he hears a key rattle in the front door, and looks up to see Ellis slumping into the hallway, hunched over, overnight case in one hand, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

He looks exhausted too, dark circles under his eyes, gray stubble shading his face. He startles a little to see Jeff there, but then his eyes slide to where Harry is asleep on the sofa and Jeff can’t quite read the expression that comes over his face.

He dumps his bags inside the door. Jeff walks towards him, so they won’t wake Harry when they talk.

“Hi Jeff. Keeping the homefires burning for me?” Ellis says in greeting.

He smiles at Jeff. He always shows so many teeth when he smiles, Jeff realises. It’s unnecessary.

“Harry was … Harry had a bad day.” Jeff offers hesitantly. He didn’t do anything. Why is he flush with guilt? “He had a scare with the baby, but it’s OK, he says. I picked him up at the clinic and … hey Ellis, you really need to get some kind of plan set up there so he doesn’t have to pay every time. Like, I think it’s pretty standard - your insurance should cover it. Harry was -”

“Yeah, thanks Jeff, I’ll get right on that.” 

Jeff stares blankly as Ellis turns and leaves Jeff standing in the hallway. Jeff hears him rattling around somewhere inside the apartment for a moment or two before he comes back with two glasses filled with dark amber liquid, ice-cubes clinking. He hands one to Jeff, raising the other in a toasting gesture.

“Thanks, Jeff. You sure are a good friend. I appreciate it.”

Jeff looks up, seeking signs of insincerity in Ellis’ facial expression, but that disturbing smile has faded away and he mostly just looks tired.

Jeff takes the drink but, for once, he’s not feeling particularly thirsty.

Ellis wanders off, digging his phone out of his bag, turning away so Jeff can’t see the screen.

He knocks back most of his drink in one gulp.

When he looks up again and finds Jeff watching him, he smirks.

“Jetlag’s a bitch.” 

He looks old, not just tired, Jeff thinks, looking at the crinkles around his eyes, the papery tone to his skin. He looks worn out.

Ellis looks over at Harry’s sleeping form.

“So, the baby’s OK?”

“Yeah. Harry, didn’t say too much, but yeah.” Jeff looks around for somewhere to put down his glass. “Look, I guess I should go.” Ellis wasn’t here when Harry needed him. He’s acting barely concerned now. Jeff needs to put some space between them now or he’ll say something he’ll regret. Because if it ever comes down to making Harry choose between Jeff and Ellis, well… Jeff’s already has his answer.

Ellis is staring absently at Harry, sipping at his drink, like Jeff hadn’t spoken.

“So it’s still hanging on in there. Didn’t think it would last this long, frankly. Tenacious little bugger. Guess it must be mine, after all …”

Ellis straightens suddenly and beams that toothy smile at Jeff again. He takes his glass for him.

“Listen, thanks for everything Jeffrey. We’ll catch you soon, yeah? Still got to get that lunch in with your parents, don’t we? When would be good? How about I get my P.A. to call your office tomorrow, to set it up? I’d like to thank them for their wedding gift. I think Harry would like that.”

The door of the apartment clicks closed behind Jeff before he figures out how to speak again, which is probably just as well.

 

 

Having been unable to come up with a good enough reason to avoid it, Jeff arranged the long-promised lunch at the Azoff’s family home the following weekend. 

It’s a lovely day, so they sit outside on the shaded patio beside the pool, and throughout the meal, everyone is wildly yet politely enthusiastic about absolutely everything. Jeff’s involuntary teeth-clenching during it all will quite probably cause future issues to his dental health.

“Well, my goodness marriage suits certainly you, honey!” Shelli beams at Harry. “You look so great! Just radiant! I’m so, so happy for you!” 

She squeezes Harry’s arm. He shoots her a coy smile, and looks back down at the linen tablecloth before reaching over and taking Ellis’ hand.

“Thank you. We’re really happy too.” 

He’s all bright graciousness and charm today, no trace of that sad vulnerability that worried Jeff so much the last time he’d seen him. 

“The most handsome couple ever, honestly,” Shelli presses a hand to her heart, smiling broadly.

Harry’s wearing a neat black suit that someone must have tailored specially for him because it’s cut flatters his current shape - you can barely see his bump. Ellis, beside him, is in dark navy. Their matching wedding rings are shining on their fingers, catching the afternoon sunshine that’s dousing the patio.

“OK, mom. Take it easy there. Watch the drool.” Cameron walks over to grab a slice of the cake Harry brought and mooches off again. Jeff wishes he’d come back. His brother’s a dope by any standards but at least his sardonic humor reigned in the worst of Shelli’s gushing admiration throughout the meal.

Jeff’s moving around with a coffee pot in his hand, offering coffee refills to everyone except his father no matter how pointedly Irving waves his empty cup at him. 

“Well they are, aren’t they? Such an elegant pair, so striking.”

Ellis smiles at her, ignoring Jeff’s attempt to pour him coffee and sipping instead on his wine. “Thank you Shelli. This is wonderful, by the way. What is it, Schrader Estate? The 2002?”

“Hmmm?” Shelli blinks out of her reverie, saying absently, “Oh, I guess? I think it was a gift from someone. Jeff, bring Ellis the bottle to see.”

She keeps gazing at Harry.

“Well. I just am so pleased to see you like this, honey. All settled down. Now Ellis - you take care of our Harry, won’t you? We’ve got so fond of him over the years. He’s been such a good friend to Jeff. We love him! We just adore him! I feel like we’ve watched you grow up almost, Harry! I mean, just look at you now, baby! So different to when … It’s just … it’s just wonderful, it really is!”

Harry smiles again. A smaller one this time. 

“I know. I’m really lucky.”

Jeff searches Harry’s face at that. He’s gazing demurely at Ellis, like he really does believe he’s lucky. He’s a little wan, maybe, his face a little thin. But fuck, he’s lovely. His mom is right - he’s so handsome.

Jeff tears his eyes away again, and flops back into his seat. He doesn’t bother getting the wine for Ellis. Fuck him. Ellis can figure out his own wine.

Shelli is nodding at Harry.

“But Ellis, why are you still traveling so much! Honestly!” Shelli whirls to him, a playful scolding tone in her voice, “You’ve got to take time to enjoy life, you know. This is such a special time. Harry will need you here. You shouldn’t work so hard.”

Ellis booms a laugh, squeezes Harry’s fingers in his hand.

“Oh, it’s all for this one, Shelli! Don’t worry. And actually, I feel like I’ve got to look after my clients too - I feel that responsibility. I’ve always believed we’re family too, you know? And, actually - I’ve been meaning to offer you guys the opportunity to -”

“What about your little business, Harry? You keeping it ticking over?” Irving cuts over Ellis. Jeff’s been wondering lately if his Dad is getting a little deaf. Although, the more likely scenario is that he’s at the age where he’s just decided to ignore anyone who doesn’t interest him. 

“Did you do what I said, about scaling up, Harry?” Irving asks. “Moving online? That’s where you’ll make your margins…”

“Um … I think I prefer keeping things more personal, you know?” Harry tells him. “I think it’s easier to work with people when you’re there in the room with them, you know? Like, I know it’s corny, but I do want to help people.”

“It does help people,” Jeff says, the blush on Harry’s face rallying his need to be supportive. “The New York office are still raving about it.”

He turns to his Dad to explain. “After the merger, we needed something to get everyone to bond and -”

“Hey,” Harry snaps around in his seat to Jeff suddenly, eyes sparking in a way Jeff hasn’t seen in a while, “I had nothing to do with all the _bonding_ , Jeff. I told you. That was off the clock. That was all on them. And, I think, tequila.”

Jeff snorts. He heard all about that.

“Well,” he grins at Harry, finally getting an opportunity to share the news he knows is going to delight him, “Marcia and Leah have just announced their engagement, so thanks for that.”

“No way!” Harry slaps his knees and barks in laughter. “I knew it! I swear, Jeff, they were writing each other poetry all day. Everyone was dying. I kept trying to bring the group back to the plan but …”

“But Marcia wouldn’t follow instructions? Wow! I wish I could say that’s a first, Harry.”

“Oh my God! Ten minutes in, she actually told me to take my morning pages and go shove them where the sun don’t shine. I swear!”

They cackle at each other. 

Beside them, Jeff’s parents and Ellis stare at them blankly. Which both Harry and Jeff notice at the same time and sets them off laughing again.

“You have to let me come back!” Harry splutters, “I can get them all paired up. It’ll be so fun!”

“Azoff Enterprises isn’t a dating agency, so no. No, thanks. Distractions aren’t good for the profit margins…”

“Speaking of profit margins.” Ellis says, turning away from Harry to speak to Irving directly, “I’m involved in a really interesting opportunity actually. Good time to get in on it. I’d like to bring you in. Maybe we could have a talk?”

“Oh. Well. I’m out of all that really, Ellis.” Irving shrugs apologetically, “We’ve got enough here, you know? I’m just putting my time into a lot of charitable boards these days. Actually, got a fundraiser coming up - you might take a table? It’s for -”

“This is really something though, Irving,” Ellis tells him, “Something unique. Something new. Think you could really benefit.”

“Sure, sure. We’ll talk sometime, Ellis. You know Harry, I’m thinking, this charity for homeless kids - maybe you could donate a workshop for the auction? Or we could get you in to one of the shelters… Later on, obviously … If you’ll still be working?”

Harry beams, sits up high in his seat, “I’d love -”

“So,” Ellis continues, his voice louder. Jeff sees a vein in his forehead standing out, pulsing. “I should contact your office or …”

“Yeah, Ellis. Sure.” Irving’s smile slips, and he twiddles at his watch strap, “I mean. I’ve got a guy … but … send in a pack or something. I’ll take a look.”

That sudden flash of light has died out in Harry’s eyes again, Jeff sees. 

Everyone starts fiddling awkwardly with their coffee spoons.

“Maybe …” Harry turns to Ellis, speaking quietly, a blush on his cheeks. “I think, I might need to go now, Ellis. If that’s OK?”

He has his hand on his bump, and Ellis and Jeff’s parents glance away awkwardly.

They all stand to launch into various forms of bluster, thanking each other and paying final compliments, promising to do this again sometime.

Jeff drifts over to join in, lingers beside everyone, waiting his turn to say his goodbyes.

He doesn’t quite know how it happens but suddenly Harry’s in his arms, hugging him tight. Jeff has to bend forward awkwardly to avoid squashing the bump but he feels Harry sink into him, just for a few moments, then he pulls away again, following Ellis out.

 

After they’ve gone, Shelli comes back to the patio where Jeff’s slumped in a lounger in front of the pool.

“Well,” she sighs, slowly gathering the coffee cups onto a tray. “It’s just so wonderful to see Harry all settled down and respectable. He did so well for himself. What a match! I used to worry that … Well, never mind. It all worked out. You are both doing so well now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jeff mutters into his beer. He swallows tightly. His eyes feel hot and when he tries to take a steadying breath, it catches in his throat. Harry had felt so soft and warm against him. Now he’s gone - it just feels empty. Jeff feels empty. He gulps at his beer again.

It is a moment or two before he realises his mother is staring at him.

“Jeff I …” Shelli shakes her head slowly, staring at the table-top in front of her, speaks more softly this time. “I know you’re so fond of Harry. I know you feel as if … Well, they’ve been telling us you’ve been very distracted at work. Ever since … But honey, no. It wouldn’t have been right. He knew that himself. He said it himself that he wouldn’t be right for you and -”

Jeff’s head shoots up. “Harry said what?”

His mom doesn’t seem able to look at him. She’s across the patio from him, behind the table, frowning as she carefully stacks up the crockery.

“Mom.” Jeff has never felt this before, the alpha urge for dominance surging towards his beta mother. He grips onto his own knees to stop himself rising and looming over her. “What did he say? When did you talk?”

“I …” Shelli shakes her head at the table, and then folds her arms defensively, looks at Jeff, her eyes bright. “I was apologising for something. I think Harry overheard something your father and I said. That first time we met him, when you … when he stayed in the pool house. After he … Well, he didn’t exactly comport himself with decorum at that get-together now did he?!”

“Mom…” Jeff can hardly get the words out, “what happened? What did you say?”

“We just-” Shelli sits suddenly. She looks like she might cry. Jeff’s torn between wanting to tell her it’s alright, and yelling at her to spit it out.

“OK,” Shelli sighs, “so your father and I were having a private conversation in the kitchen. Expressing some reservations about you and … and Harry. About your reputation if you … The impact on your career! On your life! We just were afraid of you ruining your future if you got snared by some … Jezebel omega... Got played by someone just out for your money! 

“Anyway. We didn’t realise Harry was in the pool. He overheard … Well, we saw him getting out, leaving … We felt terrible about it, we really did. We didn’t meant to hurt his feelings. If only he’d behaved properly then, like he does now, we would never have said … We never would have thought those things …”

Jeff’s hand has clenched tight around his beer glass.

“I told him I was sorry!” Shelli cries out suddenly. “Last year. When you were all over here for Meghan’s birthday party. I told him I knew he’d heard us and that I was sorry, that we both … that we just made a mistake! We love Harry. Now that we’ve gotten to know him over the years. We really do.”

“Mom…” Jeff’s voice is choked and trembling.

“Don’t be upset, honey.” Shelli pleas. “He said it himself. He said it when I apologised that time. He agreed with me. That it was OK. He understood. He just wanted you to do well, too, Jeff. He agreed he wasn’t right for you. That people wouldn’t approve, that’d he’d hold you back. He knew it too! He agreed with me.”

Jeff is shaking his head, barely able to take this in.

“Mom...”

He isn’t even mad. 

That’s what he wants to tell his mother. But he just can’t seem to speak. 

“Jeff, I …” His mother is shaking her head at the table. He can see her eyes are glimmering.

“It’s OK, Mom,” he manages to croak. “It’s OK. It’s just that … I wish …”

He can’t quite say the words:

 _I could have been happy,_ is what he thinks. _All these years. We could both have been so happy. We could have been in love. Loved each other. Felt what that was like - to be loved._

“Oh, Jeff.” His mom is watching him, looking stricken, her fingers pressed to her mouth.

“It’s OK Mom. You didn’t … you didn’t mean to …”

“Jeff … oh, don’t …”

She rises and comes to him, cupping his face, stroking her thumb under his eyes, swiping away the tears hotly spilling.

“Oh Jeff. My baby. I’m so sorry. We didn’t know.”

Irving comes back, stops up short when he sees them.

Jeff sniffs, wipes his eyes, stands up and turns away, tries to gather himself. He stares at the pool house opposite them, the blinds drawn blankly closed.

He hears his father ask, “What is it?”

And then his mother say softly, “Harry. He’s … It’s just … Harry…”

 

 

The unspoken Azoff family motto is - when the going gets tough, the tough get dressed up, go out and put on a good show. Jeff’s bought in to the tradition as much as anything else.

His dad’s fundraising banquet has been planned for months, and all the clan are expected to be there and help host. As the ballroom fills, the family mill around to greet the attendees. From a young age, they’ve all known how to make each person feel like their presence alone is the one that the whole event hinges around.

As Jeff fixes a smile on his face, he wonders how it is that his life has turned into one long performance of enthusiasm for things he doesn’t feel.

Another one of those things approaches now - his date for the evening. Melanie is a perfectly pleasant, perfectly competent client liaison exec for a graphic design company he’d engaged for a campaign last year. Even though she seemed to like him back then, laughed at his jokes, he half expected her to turn him down when he called her last week. 

He was wrong.

“Oh hi! How are you? You look very lovely.” He tells her, lightly kissing her cheek in welcome. Her dark hair is tied into a tight knot at the back of her head, a snaking kind of complicated up-do. Jeff wonders if it feels as painful as it looks. 

She smiles back briefly, sipping her champagne, and they both stand idly in the swarming crowd for a while, nodding at people passing by.

After they’ve chatted for a while about about how yes, it is a lovely location, and the decor is indeed very lovely, and my goodness - those table floral arrangements!!! he suggests they take their seats.

She thinks that’s a lovely idea.

Jeff catches sight of Ellis’ table as they make their way over. Harry is sitting, smiling at the man beside him, and Ellis is standing close-by, gesturing pointedly as he talks with a serious expression to a young couple who seem to be hanging on his every word.

Harry looks up then and spots Jeff looking over, his face splitting into an instant smile. He starts to wave, but comes to a halt suddenly, leaving it hovering mid-air. He’s looking to Jeff’s left, where Melanie is standing, her hand tucked inside Jeff’s elbow.

Jeff has to restrain himself from his instinct to immediately push her away. Harry looks so shocked.

 _But you were one who told me to_ , he thinks.

_Fucking hell, Harry._

 

Jeff is about to turn away, bring Melanie the rest of the distance to their table, when his attention is grabbed by a strange pair of men, dressed in shabby suits, who are pushing rapidly through the crowd. 

He sees Irving near-by, and they catch each others’ eyes at the unexpected sight. Irving shakes his head confusedly and shrugs to Jeff’s raised eyebrows.

They’ve never had crashers at a gala dinner before. And definitely not ones who seem in such a hurry.

Jeff gets Melanie seated, and excuses himself to make his way over to where the men have stopped to talk to Ellis. One has his hand firmly on Ellis’ bicep, the other is showing him a card. Ellis is smiling that crocodile smile of his, holding his hands up placatingly.

By the time Jeff manages to reach them, Ellis is being led away through the gala guests, squashed securely between the two men. Jeff notices a third person then, a woman, going up to where Harry is standing at his table gaping at Ellis’ escorted departure. She takes his arm in that same firm grip.

“Excuse me,” Jeff manages to catch up with them, “Harry? What’s happening? Are you OK?”

Harry just turns his dumbfounded face to Jeff, as the woman tells him sternly, “Please stay back, sir. This isn’t your concern.”

Jeff snaps, “Hold up here. I’m Jeff Azoff and this is my family’s private function. Please let go of my friend, and explain your presence, before I call the police.”

The woman doesn’t let go of Harry, but she does sigh and rummage in a pocket before pulling out an ID card and flashing it at Jeff. 

“I am the police, so don’t worry about that sir. Just step aside now, and let me get on with my job. We don’t intend to disturb your party.”

Jeff manages to catch a glimpse of the words - _U.S. Securities and Exchanges Commission_ \- before she closes up her wallet and moves to steer Harry though the crowd.

Harry faces Jeff again, wide-eyed, “Jeff? I don’t …”

He’s tugged away.

Jeff follows, hurriedly walking at the cop’s elbow.

“Hey, wait… You can’t just … What’s going on? Where are you taking Harry?”

“We’ll be at the L.A.P.D. Commercial Crimes Division, West First Street. We just have a few questions we need some help with. As I said sir, we don’t intend to disturb you. Please return to your party.”

“Harry.” Jeff catches his wrist, as he’s pulled away once more. “I’ll call a lawyer OK? Don’t say anything until they get there.”

“Jeff, I … I don’t understand what’s happening. What’s happening?” 

Harry’s wrist slips out from Jeff’s hand and Irving is suddenly at Jeff’s elbow as they watch Harry being steered out the doorway.

“Dad!” Jeff whirls around to him, “can you call Bill? I don’t know what’s going on, but-”

Irving is pulling his phone out of his pocket before Jeff can even finish the sentence. He nods once at Jeff, pats his shoulder reassuringly, as he speaks into the phone - “Bill. Think we have a bit of a situation…”

 

Bill Lee has been Jeff’s Dad’s personal lawyer for as long as Jeff can remember. This is probably why he shows no restraint when he meets Jeff outside the police station, telling him to back off, go home, let him do his job.

He made Bill swear to call him as soon as he figured out what was happening. Made him swear to make the police aware how delicate things were with Harry’s pregnancy. To do whatever he could to make sure he was OK.

Jeff came home and paced around his apartment, feeling sick, for hours and hours. 

At some point in the middle of the night he must have sat down, though, because the light is suddenly that grayish haze of dawn, and Jeff’s twisted face-down on his sofa, and his phone is buzzing somewhere under his chest.

He fumbles and eventually gets it - Bill’s voice is talking, but it Jeff just can’t work out what he’s saying.

Hospital? Something about a hospital?

 

Someone knocks on his door then, while Bill is still talking - spilling out a stream of words that just won’t add up to anything that makes sense.

Jeff manages to interrupt him, gets him to stop long enough for Jeff to tell him he has to answer the door.

That cop from before is there. She looks as tired as Jeff feels. There’s another two guys with her - uniformed, their radios buzzing.

Jeff stands back, wordlessly. 

The cop holds up a sheet of paper, and Jeff hears her say the word “search warrant” before he brings up the phone to his ear again.

“Bill? Think I need you.”


	5. Chapter 5

There’s an atmosphere of post-apocalyptic emptiness to this strip of bars, clubs, take-out joints that Jeff’s driving past. But, that’s often the case for these kind of places in daylight, places that only really come alive at night.

Jeff crawls up and down the street twice before he can match the address to his google streetview. He can see a sign for a nightclub, and two doors down from that, that’s where it should be - on the corner. Finally, Jeff sees the rickety staircase to an over-the-shop apartment. Well, it’s over a pizza place to be accurate, but the doorway matches the picutre - flaking paint and a dusty sunflower in a pot on the top step.

He parks up. Waits. 

Jeff doesn’t know anything any more, second-guesses the slightest thing. So even though every cell in his body is yearning for him to run up that staircase and bang on the door, he instead grips tight onto the steering wheel. Just breathes.

 

It’s been three months.

Three months since the charity dinner and Ellis’ arrest on suspicion of fraud. Three months since Harry had to be taken from police station to the hospital with suspected early labour pains. Three months since Ellis was allowed to accompany him on compassionate grounds. Since Harry was given the all-clear and they both disappeared from the emergency room while the cops were getting coffee. Security camera footage showed Ellis helping Harry into a cab. The police never traced the driver. 

They questioned everyone who had any kind of association with Ellis, but he just disappeared without trace, his clients losing every cent they ever gave him.

Irving bought Jamie’s _Jag_ from him, paid way over the odds, but he’s still wiped out. Jeff’s been impressed with how OK he’s been about it, though. He’d just shrugged and said _“it’s not like anyone died”_ , before looking guilty and asking if he’d heard anything about Harry yet.

Bill, his Dad’s lawyer, was pretty unsympathetic, really, Jeff thinks.

“It should have been clear as day to anyone that this guy was running a ponzi scheme. Anyone who did any research at all would have found that there wasn’t the faintest evidence to support the kind of returns he was promising. People _wanted_ to be duped. That’s what I think.”

Bill might not be good at sympathy, but he is good at finding things out.

Ellis’ real name is David Murphy. He’s done this before, under various guises. Bill can’t prove anything, but given his travel patterns, he reckons Ellis is probably hiding somewhere in South East Asia, where he’ll re-invent himself, find someone new who can introduce him to all the right people. He’ll start all over again.

Bill also found out that Harry didn’t go with him. He found birth records filed for Harry’s new baby boy. Got his address somehow from the charity clinic he’d attended, passed it on Jeff - a sketchy suburb on the route to Vegas. The only thing Jeff ever heard about the place was back in college, when some of his buddies recommended it as the place for cheap party drugs. That, and its infamy for heat clubs. 

 

It can’t be even five minutes after Jeff parked, when he sees Harry, coming from someplace round the back of the building, a laundry basket resting against his hip. He trudges up the staircase, pauses at the top to tweak the position of the sunflower pot, then goes into his apartment, shouldering the door when it seems to stick.

Jeff slowly exhales after the door has shut again.

He seemed OK. 

Like, obviously, the whole thing took about 30 seconds, but he looked OK. A little soft under his loose shirt, his hair slightly wild and straggly, but he moved like a person who was well, who wasn’t hurting in any obvious way. A little slouchy maybe, but then again he wasn’t wearing proper shoes, just those ugly flip-flops. Actually, he was pretty shabby looking over all, it occurs to Jeff - loose t-shirt, cut-off sweat-pants, he didn’t seem to be wearing any jewelery, nothing glinting in the bright sunshine. But that doesn’t mean anything. He’s a new dad doing laundry. It’s not like he’s going to dress up for that.

Jeff could go again now, he supposes. Now that he’s satisfied himself of this much.

It was what he told himself he’d do on the drive here - that he’d be fine if he could just see Harry, just once. And then he could go and he’d move on and never think about him again.

But Jeff has been second-guessing himself a lot lately so he’s walking up the staircase without any memory of taking a decision to do so.

He knocks once, feels like he’s going to vomit, but it passes, so he does it again, more firmly this time.

 

When Harry opens the door his eyes open so widely he looks vaguely alien-like for a moment. He immediately takes three staggering steps backwards in shock, and Jeff is OK with that really, because he also sort of wants to turn tail and run down the staircase and pretend he didn’t do this.

But instead, something kicks in which Jeff can only put down to his family inculcation into the importance of polite competence in all situations, and he takes a breath and says steadily, “Hi Harry. Sorry for the surprise.”

For a second, Harry gets that soft look on his face that happens before he flings himself into someone’s arms, ready or not. But then he closes his eyes, wraps his arms around himself instead. Stands up straight and looks Jeff straight in the eye.

“Hi Jeff.”

They look at each other for a second, until Jeff loses and blinks first. He looks down at his feet, shuffles them on the top step, and finally hears Harry say - “Come in. I guess we need to talk.”

The apartment is tiny, a little cluttered and stuffy, and absolutely drenched in the scent of the sticks of incense and candles Harry has alight everywhere. But it’s clean and tidy, and in many ways, much nicer than that vast echoing space Harry had lived in with Ellis. At least it shows signs of actual humans with human lives living there. There are three guitars propped up against one wall, and posters of Hendrix, Clapton, Page stuck on the wall above them, like some kind of altar. Beside them, in the corner, there’s a bassinet, but it’s empty. 

He looks around but all Jeff sees is Harry’s neat handwriting scrawled over pages scattered across the sofa seats, a laptop open on a small coffee table.

“I’m working on developing an online workshop - like your Dad said I should,” Harry tells Jeff, moving to the sofa to tidy everything up, shut closed his laptop. “A few of my previous participants have good profiles, lots of followers, and they’ve said they’ll help me spread the word. I’m really going to try. I want to pay everyone back.”

“You don’t need to pay people back, Harry. You didn’t take their money. What Ellis did … it wasn’t your fault.”

Harry purses his lips, shrugs. “They were all my friends. I thought it was weird … how interested in me he was, but … it was just to get to my friends. I should have known. I owe them.”

Jeff doesn’t agree. Ellis was impressive and skilled at deception, and people who were a lot more cynical and wiser than Harry fell for him.

But he sort of has a feeling there’s no point in saying any of this.

“How are you?” he tries instead. “I got your postcards, but … how are you? How is Sam?”

They’d arrived in the days after Harry and Ellis had disappeared. First one, just saying - “ _I’m sorry._ ” Then one, the very next day - “ _I’m OK. Don’t worry about me. Be happy. Love you always._ ” And three weeks after that one had put Jeff into a panic, another one arrived, a picture of a tiny, preemie newborn on the front, “ _He’s here. He’s beautiful. His name is Sam. Love always. Xxx_ ”

“OK.” Harry says, looking at the floor, “We’re OK. Sam’s amazing. He’s brilliant.”

“How are you managing to get by?”

“I’m doing OK. My friend Mitch - this is his place - he’s OK with us staying with him. He works in the pizza place beneath, and then he’s gigging late a lot of the time, so it doesn’t matter when Sam’s having a wail. And I’m doing some shifts on reception at that tattoo place, down the street? They let me bring the baby, they’re great. And I’ve got friends around to help - when I need a sitter. The rent’s so cheap here - tons of artists and musicians live around. It’s a creative kind of place. So … everything’s OK. Everything’s pretty great, really.”

A wave of anger washes over Jeff then.

“Harry …” he can’t help himself. “Do you … do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?! I’ve been losing his mind! And what? You’ve been just hanging out here? With your new arty friends? Don’t you care? Don’t you care at all that I …”

He stops himself. This isn’t why he came. He isn’t going to do this.

He shakes his head, takes a couple of breaths, stares at the floor in front of him so he won’t have to see whatever is happening on Harry’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Harry whisper. “I thought … I do think … it’s for the best. If I stay away. If I’m not in your life any more. I think that’s what’s best. Really. For you. For you and your girlfriend.”

Jeff’s on the floor suddenly. 

He doesn’t know how it happened, but his knees just seemed to cave in and he’s crouched on the floor, hands splayed wide on the floorboards and he’s struggling to breathe. 

“Jeff!”

Harry’s voice seems far away. And when Jeff looks up he realises that’s because Harry _is_ actually far away. He’s pressed into the furthest corner of the room, arms wrapped tight around his body again. His eyes are shining really bright, and there’s a glow on his skin. It’s too hot in this fucking room, the air thick with all those scents.

Jeff shakes himself. Tries to take a breath in this musty air. He straightens up, sits back on his heels.

He’s got so much to say to Harry, but all he can manage right now is … “I don’t have a girlfriend, Harry. How could I? When I’m in love with you?”

Harry’s face crumples up, and he slides down the wall, wrapping his arms around his bent legs, pulling himself up into a tight little knot, like he can make himself disappear entirely if he squeezes hard enough.

“Jeff …” he pants, “you can’t… you can’t …”

And it’s only then it hits Jeff, wafting through the perfume … he scents Harry. The essence of him. He looks up sharply. 

Harry’s shaking his head, trembling - Jeff can see it now. He’s gleaming with sweat suddenly.

Another wave of that scent washes over him, engulfs him. It’s staggering.

Harry … Harry … Harry … It’s everything now. It fills every inch of Jeff’s being.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” Harry’s whimpering in the corner, still all coiled up in himself, “I thought it had passed… It comes in waves … but … I thought it was over …”

Harry’s in heat.

Jeff gasps suddenly with the realisation of it, the obviousness of it. Every hair on his skin is standing upright, and he wants to flip over every piece of furniture between them, so he can touch Harry, so he can make him his.

But then he hears Harry again - a sob - the sadness in it. Harry gasps for breath and Jeff looks up and sees tears streaming down his face.

“Harry,” he murmurs, “Harry. It’s OK.”

Harry shakes his head, sobbing into the crook of his elbow.

“I’ll go,” Jeff tells him, “It’s OK. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Harry says quickly, pleadingly almost. He looks over his folded arms at Jeff. “I’m … I’m not scared Jeff. But … It’s been three days now… Sam’s with Shania because I didn’t know if I was … if he’d be safe when I … I just want this to be over. I need this to be over… And, and … that girl really wasn’t your girlfriend?”

A shiver runs down Jeff’s spine.

The quickest way to end a heat is to just knot an omega. Everyone knows that. Is that what Harry’s asking?

Jeff knows he shouldn’t trust himself right now. Shouldn’t trust either of them.

But Harry’s standing suddenly, making his way over to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him, taking Jeff’s face in his hands.

“Please Jeff,” he whispers, “ I’m … I’m sorry … This is … I’m wrong, I know but … please. Please, please, please, please, please …”

His face comes closer to Jeff’s with each pleading, and then his lips are pressing into Jeff’s, soft and wet, and he’s begging between each kiss, pleading in this soft, desperate tone that strikes inside Jeff like match-paper, and he’s aflame, burning up, with how much he wants Harry. 

“I don’t want to hurt you…” Jeff whispers to Harry, trying to twist away from those desperate, soft kisses.

“You won’t, you won’t, you won’t” Harry pants. Jeff is almost floored again now, by the scent, that sweet, musky essence, that torrent of _want_ that’s streaming over them both.

“Please Jeff,” Harry’s saying again, his hands roaming over Jeff’s face, into his hair, “I need this to be over. It’s … I can’t do this by myself … I’m always by myself, and …”

He breaks off and sobs again, and Jeff can’t fight it any more, loses any sense of what the right thing to do here is, and he surges at Harry, kisses him hard, one hand at the back of Harry’s neck, the other digging into his hip. He feels Harry’s whole body weaken with it, feels him limply melt against Jeff’s body. And then Jeff grabs at him, one hand behind his head and he tips Harry back onto the floor, lies along the length of him, each whimper from Harry making him harder, hotter, more frantic as he tears at his clothes, tugging at them to free them from Harry’s writhing, sweaty body…

But Harry suddenly wriggles, grasps Jeff’s hands, pushes him away, grabs at the hem of his shirt and pulls it down over his front.

“Sorry!” Jeff gasps. He forces himself to stand back, staggers a little with how dizzy he feels, “Shit Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I … I should go. I should …”

“No!” Harry yelps, and he’s rolling up and grasping at Jeff’s legs, hugging on tight. “No, please Jeff. I’m sorry, please. Don’t go.”

Jeff shakes him off, staggers back a few paces, gets closer to a window and bends over, hands on the sill, gasping at the fresh air.

“Jeff,” Harry is standing now. He’s flushed and glowing, strands of his hair drenched against his forehead. “Please … I’ll never ask you for anything again. Please, just this … just this once … and then you’ll be free…”

Jeff tries to shake his head free of the buzzing noise that’s vibrating inside his skull. But Harry steps closer, holds out his hand, and Jeff can’t do anything but take it, let Harry lead him into the bedroom.

Harry leads him to the bed. It’s unmade - the freshly laundered sheets still in the basket Harry carried up from downstairs. Jeff sees how Harry’s been trying to cope up to now - there are sex toys and bottle of lube and a vibrator scattered on the floor near the bed.

“Sorry,” Harry breathes, grasping tighter onto Jeff’s hand, “I’m sorry I … I tried by myself, but …”

Jeff doesn’t know anything anymore.

He gives up.

He pulls Harry close, wrapped his arms around him and just squeezes, tight as he can.

“I love you,” he tells him. “I love you, so, so much. I don’t want you to hurt any more.”

Harry dips his head into Jeff’s shoulder, holding on just as tightly.

“Jeff,” he sobs, “I love you too. I always have. Always.” 

He shudders. Jeff gets a new waft of his heat scent and it’s almost too much.

Harry walks them towards the bed, roughly flaps a sheet over it and pushes Jeff to sit down. He tugs at his clothes until Jeff’s naked in front of him. And then Jeff reaches for him too, but Harry puts his hand over Jeff’s fist in his shirt.

“I …” he gasps, looking down, “my body’s all weird. Since the baby … I … I don’t want you to see.”

Jeff pauses. He doesn’t care what Harry looks like, of course he doesn’t. But he waits. Waits for Harry to let him know how he wants to do this.

Harry pulls off his sweatpants, his hard dick swinging up against his stomach, he leaves his t-shirt on, and crawls onto the bed. He’s leaking slick freely - Jeff sees it and smells it as Harry crawls in front of him. Then Harry dips forward, pressing his forehead into the mattress, presenting himself to Jeff.

“Like this?” Jeff breathes, shaking all over, “you sure?”

Harry just shudders, Jeff watches the muscle spasm rippling across his lower back, his haunches. A gloop of slick glistens as it runs along the back of Harry’s thighs.

Jeff reaches down to catch it against his fingertips before he even thinks about it. He hears Harry whimpering into the mattress as his fingers trace the damp trail left behind, until he reaches the top of his thigh, edges into the crease under his buttock.

“Jeff, please…” Harry gasps. He’s shaking all over now. “Please, please … just fuck me … Please … I can’t …”

Jeff shuffles up behind him. He’s so hard he feels like he’s going to die from it. No one could withstand this much _wanting_ and live, surely?

Harry widens his legs to make room for Jeff and then Jeff’s touching him there, his forefingers running over his flexing hole that’s shining and leaking, and Harry’s buried his face into the bedding but the noises he’s making are still so desperate that Jeff’s got his hands gripping tightly onto his hips before he can help it, and he’s _in_ Harry, thrusting, into that tight, slippery heat. He goes hard, fast, fucking Harry as desperately as Harry had begged him to.

And Harry’s gasping. Sweating even more - his skin is completely slick under Jeff’s hands. He’s wet all over. Jeff can see his hair is now drenched against his scalp, there are beads of sweat running along his skin everywhere. Jeff’s hands are slipping on his hips as he thrusts into him.

Harry pushes himself up from the mattress suddenly, groaning.

He reaches behind him, grasping wildly, until he catches hold of Jeff wherever he can reach - his head, his arm.

He jerks his hips back into Jeff, so violently that Jeff’s nearly knocked backwards.

“Harder,” Harry pants, ‘more, more, make it harder …”

They rut against each other for what seems like an age. Jeff feels Harry slump forward again, hands on the wall in front of them, shunts his whole body back into Jeff. He hears a gasp, then another, and then a different tone to the next one, a throatiness that pulls him up, stops him moving, still buried deep inside Jeff.

“It’s not enough…” Harry whimpers. “It’s … I’m … Oh god, I’m sorry … I hate this, I hate this …”

Jeff grabs himself and pulls out from Harry. He wraps his arms around him, pulls him in against his chest.

“Baby.” Harry’s back is against Jeff’s chest, and Jeff wraps his arms around Harry’s middle, feels then, the softness that Harry must be trying to hide from him. He’s so tender. He kisses the side of Harry’s face he can reach, down along his neck. And then, out of some instinct Jeff didn’t know he had, he bites hard into the fleshiness at the back of Harry’s neck. He feels Harry go limp all over, shudder again. Jeff releases Harry’s flesh, licks over his teeth marks soothingly, and then just as Harry takes a ragged breath, he bites at that spot again.

He releases when it seems like Harry’s calmed.

Harry’s still shaking against Jeff’s chest, but he’s still calmer that before. He lifts his head to look at Jeff. His eyes are shiny bright.

“I’ve got … something …” His voice is breathless and hoarse. “I found it in my travel case. It’s from a trip before with … It should be OK though…”

He pulls away from Jeff, and rummages in the nightstand and then pulls out a vial of clear liquid.

“It’s a nullifier,” he says to Jeff. “Will you? I want .. I need … a knot.”

 

It’s nothing like Jeff ever imagined.

He’d slipped easily into Harry, like before. But a wash of something dizzying wafted over him then, and suddenly Jeff felt alive in a way he’d never done before. This is everything, EVERYTHING…

He pulls out of Harry, flips him over so he’s on his back, puts a hand behind each knee and folds him up.

“I need to,” he tells him, “I need to see you. I need to see your eyes.”

 

Harry blinks but doesn’t protest, and Jeff pushes inside him again, hearing Harry gasp as he pushes deep.

There’s a burning pressure there, where their bodies meet, and Harry whimpers again, scrunching up his eyes and rolling his head away. But Jeff reaches for him. He puts his hand on the side of Harry’s face and turns him back to face him. He leans down to kiss him, once, twice, and Harry opens his eyes, looks straight at him, and that’s it, a swirl of hot, broiling sensation sweeps over Jeff’s whole body, inside and out, and it boils down into this one intensity, this fire inside Jeff.

He rocks hard into Harry again, the tightness of him is different this time, Jeff’s the one trembling all over.

And he feels it start…

“Harry,” he manages to gasp, holding his body still, “are you sure? Are you sure?”

And Harry hasn’t looked away from Jeff’s eyes once and he nods, mouth opened. His hands grasp more tightly onto Jeff shoulders as Jeff groans with the pressure of it, and he pushes once more, hard and deep into Harry and holds himself steady, and then, with a wrench that’s feels like being torn apart, his knot forms inside Harry.

Harry gasps under him, whimpers, painfully digging his fingertips into Jeff’s shoulders.

He holds Jeff’s eyes, until he can’t, screwing them up and biting his lip.

“God, oh god … Jeff …”

He pants, breath coming so fast Jeff’s afraid he’s going to pass out. He catches his lips with his own, tastes him against his tongue. Harry bites at his bottom lip when he tries to pull back, and Jeff groans.

“Harry, god, fuck,” and then something happens, Jeff doesn’t know what it is, but something shivers right through him and his knot throbs in a new sensation, not heat so much as _energy_ , and Harry gasps for a breath and his head flops back against the pillow and his whole body seems to loosen. He lets go of Jeff’s shoulders and he arches into it, hands digging into this pillow either side of his head, and his legs wrap tight suddenly around Jeff. He feels the heels of Harry’s feet digging into the small of his back.

And Harry rocks gently against him, it sends shoots of pure pleasure right through Jeff, and he has to bites down his lip to stop himself yelling out.

Harry smiles at him, rocking again. And, even though he can barely breath, Jeff laughs lightly, moving back into Harry, gentle, barely-there thrusts.

Harry’s breath catches, his eyes widen, shine.

“Oh!” he exhales, his eyes spark and he smiles back at Jeff, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jeff whispers back to him, “Oh.”

Jeff slides his hand up inside Harry’s sweat-soaked shirt, and Harry nods once, and he lifts it carefully off. Harry’s body is soft all over, tummy still slightly rounded, breasts full, his skin like polished porcelain.

He curls up from the bed, wraps his arms tightly around Jeff’s shoulders, settles onto him, around him. They stay joined together like that for an age, just barely moving against each other, eyes locked on each other’s faces, kissing soft, brief kisses into the parts of each other they can reach. 

Jeff can feel every breath Harry takes, every beat of his heart, feels the blood pulsing through his veins. He’s never been so close to another person before. He never knew it was possible to feel this close. An other half. It’s true. Harry’s the other half of him now, bonded to him now by heat and friction. He’s sure Harry feels it too - the way he’s holding him, gently caressing his face, his mouth dropped open, still silently making that “oh”.

 

Eventually, the pleasure crescendos and Jeff comes, harder and longer than he ever has before, and Harry holds him through it, holds him close. Kissing him when the last aftershocks shudder through him.

And even when he softens, and Harry lets his legs slide away from him, Jeff cannot bear to think of pulling free from him, and they stay there, unmoving for a while, still staring at each other, still connected.

Harry reaches to trace his fingers along the bones of Jeff’s face, over his eyebrow, along his cheekbone.

“Kind eyes,” he whispers, and then he slowly lets go. He lays back and tugs Jeff down to him, presses his head into his chest. Jeff feels his fingers scratching against his scalp as he drifts off, feels him breathing underneath him, feels the slow and steady beat of his heart.

 

 

Jeff wakes with the strong afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window.

Harry is lying across the pillow from him, his eyes wide open, staring at Jeff.

“Wow,” Jeff croaks, “don’t do that. That’s weird.”

Harry’s face crinkles up as he grins.

Then he reaches for Jeff’s face, his warm hand strokes along the side of it. Jeff reaches and grabs his wrist, kisses it’s soft inside, keeps his fingers in a tight circle.

“Do I have to hold on like this to stop you running out on me again?” he asks. Then his heart pounds because he’s not sure he should have said that, straight away. He should have said something kinder, maybe.

Harry buries himself into the pillow more deeply, so Jeff can only see the corner of one eye staring back at him. His curls are big and unruly around his head. The skin of his bare shoulders gleams in the light. There’s no way Jeff can ever possibly let this go. The skin has been flayed from his body too many times. There’s nothing left now to shield him from the blows. 

“What do you want Harry?” he whispers to him.

Harry lifts his head up from the pillow, looks shocked, like that question meant something else to him.

Jeff sits up, looks back down at him. He’s starting to shake again because Harry hasn’t answered, so Jeff knotting him might not have ripped up the universe and rewritten it for him, like it did for Jeff. And he isn’t quite sure he’ll ever be able to breathe again if Harry isn’t beside him, always.

Harry’s looking at him steadily.

He rolls up, moves so he’s sitting beside Jeff. He puts a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, kisses his face.

“I want scrambled eggs,” he says, “Come on …”

 

After Jeff washes up and dresses, he finds Harry in the little kitchenette, dressed in his baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, stirring eggs round a pan. A toaster pops. 

He looks up, sees Jeff standing there, smiles.

“I’m fucking ravenous, Jeffrey. I haven’t eaten properly in three days. The amount of eggs I’m about to swallow might not be very appealing to watch. But I’ll share … so …”  
Harry grins, tilts his head at the high stools on the side of the counter-top. “Sit.”

Jeff moves over, takes a seat, like he’s been told. Takes a sip of the orange juice placed in front of him.

Harry scrapes two huge mounds of scrambled eggs onto plates, butters their toast.

Jeff manages a couple of bites before he puts his fork down and just sits, watching Harry eat like he’s never seen food before.

Harry slows down after a little while, trailing his fork through his eggs.

“I …” he looks at Jeff, “I didn’t think it would be like that … the heat. I thought … It wasn’t scary at all. I thought I’d be all out of control. But … it was you. It was … ”

Jeff nods at his eggs. He doesn’t know how Harry thought either of them would be able to eat this many eggs. Harry’s a total fool. He could hate him, he really could.

Harry suddenly reaches for Jeff’s hand, makes him drop his fork and entwines their fingers.

“Jeff,” he whispers, “I just want you to know … I don’t need you.”

Jeff swallows. 

He’s probably going to hurl now. It won’t be his fault. So many eggs.

“What I mean is -” Harry says, more firmly this time, “I don’t need any alpha. I don’t need to be taken care of. I can do it on my own. I can be OK on my own. I didn’t think I could before. But … I’ve done it twice now. Built a life from nothing. Two lives. I know it’s not much here but … I think I’m doing OK, after everything.”

Jeff looks around the cosy apartment. He nods. Harry’s doing OK. He’s right. He’s amazing.

“You know, while I’ve been here, I thought that ... that it would be better for you if I stayed away completely. Give you a chance with someone new. Especially now. After what Ellis did. I felt so ashamed for the longest time. I went back to the police, you know. Soon as I could. Told them everything I knew … which wasn’t a lot but … He cleared me out too, you know? Everything I’d saved. Not that it was much but…

“I can take care of myself,” Harry sits back and announces. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I can take care of Sam. He’s doing really well. I think, I’m doing a good job with him. I’ve got good friends. My family. People like my workshops. They come back to see me. I’m almost glad this all happened. I don’t know if I would have ever known, otherwise, that I’m OK. That there’s nothing wrong with me, with being me. I’m stronger than I ever knew.”

“I’m not though,” Jeff tells him. Tells his plate of eggs really, because he’s too scared to look at Harry. “I need you. I fall apart without you. I’m not strong.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, that’s not true, Jeff. Of course you are. You’d be OK, too. I know you would. But … now, now that we know what it’s like to, now that we’ve been together like that … I think … OK isn’t enough, really, is it?”

Jeff really is going to get sick. He shakes his head, trying to clear the dizziness away.

“Harry, I’m glad we’re talking this all through and everything,” he says weakly, because he’d like to get this sorted before he faints, “but … would you mind if we skipped ahead to the bit when you tell me if you’re coming home with me or not?”

Harry straightens on his stool, stares in surprise at Jeff. “Of course I am. After that …” he nods back towards the bedroom door, “you think I’m going anywhere? I’m coming home with you and we’re going to do that all the time. We’re bonded now, Jeff. You’re stuck with me.”

Jeff thinks the high stools are a bad furnishing choice. He gets very swirly and dizzy suddenly and there’s no lumbar support, so it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall off.

He grips at the counter top and looks up at Harry.

He’s taking a bite of his eggs, making a _yum_ noise, smiling to himself.

“Oh, OK then,” Jeff says weakly. 

“Eat your eggs, Jeffrey. You’re going to need your strength.”

Harry smirks at him, eyes sparkling.

And it might have been better for Jeff in lots of ways, if he had fallen in love with someone less annoying. There’s no doubt that would have it’s advantages. But Jeff’s alright with this.

He exhales.

This’ll do.

 

 

There’s a knock on the door.

Harry’s face lights up.

“Wait till you meet him!”

A strikingly tall drag artist in full make-up, a wig-cap and dressing gown comes in, a bundle in her arms.

“Harry honey, I’ve got to go to work soon. Are you able for him yet?”

“Heeeyyy, my sweetheart, how are you?” Harry gushes, pulling Sam into his arms. “Was he OK? Did he take all his formula? Did he sleep?”

“He was just a little darlin’. Was good as gold. And how are you doing, honey-pie? You through it?”

Harry stands on his tip-toes to kiss her cheek, “Yeah - I’m done with it. All over. Thank you so, so much. Come meet Jeff. He helped me. He’s my best friend. Jeff, this is our neighbour, Shania Vain.”

Jeff comes over, smiles a brief hello at the neighbor before coming to stand close to Harry, peering down at the wriggling bundle inside his arms.

Sam’s the image of Harry - same far-set eyes, same wide nose and big ears, same tummy pudge now actually.

The baby kicks his legs, waggling his arms into the air. So he definitely has also inherited Harry’s physical co-ordination skills. The baby fixes his big blue eyes on Jeff. They’re too big, too wide. He’s so incredibly cute. He can’t be human.

“Hi little alien baby!” Jeff coos. “Do you like our planet?”

Harry turns his head and stares at Jeff.

“What did you call him? You can’t call him that!”

Jeff looks down, grins - he’s pretty sure Sam smiles back. He knows he’s too precious for this world. He’s cool with it.

“That big ol’ head? He definitely looks like an alien, Harry, sorry,” he says softly. He reaches out and Sam grips his finger, squeezes his tiny little ones on tight. “He’s just like you. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect.”

 

 

_**One month later.** _

Harry watches Jeff strolling around the Azoff’s back yard, holding Sam close in his arms. They stop every now and then so Sam can reach his pudgy little hand out to pull at a leaf, flap at a flower. Jeff leans them both over a rose bush at one point, trying to get Sam to smell it, but has to pull back quickly when Sam opens his mouth to suck on it instead. Jeff gets all flustered, poking his fingers into Sam’s mouth, checking he definitely hasn’t bitten anything. 

He casts a furtive look back over his shoulder, sees Harry at the window, looks guilty for a moment before giving Harry a thumbs up.

Harry chuckles to himself.

His alpha’s an idiot sometimes.

Behind him, Irving and Shelli are tidying up the lunch things. Cameron’s gone upstairs. Harry realises, this is probably his chance. He’ll should do this now before he can give himself time to lose courage. He turns from the window and walks over to them.

“Um, I … Irving and Shelli, I would like to talk to you about something. There’s something I need to ask you.”

They share a pointed look at each other before turning to face him.

Harry gets it. He and Jeff do that now too. Read each other’s eyes, come to a joint decision without even using words. It’s particularly useful when they’re changing positions during sex, Harry’s found. 

“All right, honey,” Shelli says measuredly. “Do we need to sit down for this?”

Harry nods. So they all drift over to the big dining table. But when they get there he can’t bring himself to sit. So he stays on his feet, opposite them. He’s twisting his ankles awkwardly, even though Shania Vain’s been trying to help him work on his posture lately because - _everything’s performance darling_.

“So, um,” he clears his throat. This is harder than he thought it would be. Or no, that’s not true. It’s exactly as hard as he thought it would be.

He decides to just spit it out.

“So, what I would like to ask you is … I would actually like to ask … uh …”

So …. he's doing really great at this spitting it out thing ... He takes a deep breath and tries again.

“I would like to ask Jeff to marry me. And I want to ask for your permission, or … actually … your blessing. I guess. Not permission. Because I’m probably going to do it anyway, ask him. No, not probably. I am going to. But I would like your blessing. Because it would mean a lot to me. And I think to Jeff. You two are … you’ve been wonderful parents to him, and you’ve been so good to me since I came back. And Sam. I love you guys, I really do. And I’d like us all to be a family. And I want everyone to be happy. And I want … I want Jeff, really. I suppose it’s as simple as that. So … that’s what I’m asking. Is it OK with you, if I ask him to marry me? Do I have your blessing to ask for Jeff’s hand in marriage?”

Ewww. He’s just made a balls of that. And he had it all planned. Shit, shit, shit.

Irving and Shelli are doing their look again. He can’t blame them.

“I don’t mean I’m going to do it right now,” Harry adds quickly. Because he needs to explain everything better. “I mean, I know it wasn’t ever a legal marriage to Ellis, since that wasn’t his name. But it’s still too soon, I know that, to move on so quickly. I need more time just to … settle all that. Inside myself. But …”

God, he couldn’t be doing this any worse could he? Bringing up the worst decision of his life, right now? Good going, Styles.

“But, I do know that I want to marry Jeff, in time. And I just need to know if you would be alright with that? When the time’s right.”

Irving speaks first, reaching for Shelli’s hand.

“Well, Harry, let me think about this …”

OK. It’s not a no. Harry will take it, so far. His heart pounds faster, as he waits for whatever Irving has to say.

“Well, first of all, we need to figure out your prospects, don’t we?”

“My prospects?” Harry echoes, weakly.

“Well, yes! Of course!” Irving says. “Can you support my son, if needs be? And the little one? Can you provide for a family? This is very important to consider. You young people need to think about the practicalities, you know. The future!”

Irving’s got a twinkle in his eye. Harry can’t believe it.

“I … I think I’ve got prospects,” Harry tells him. “My business is doing pretty well, actually, with this online community thing … well, what I mean is - I’m earning enough to support us all. If I needed to. I mean - it wouldn’t be like this -” Harry holds his hands up to indicate the Azoff mansion. “But we’d be OK. We’d manage, I think.”

“And, can you assure us you will be a good spouse in all the other ways? Are you patient? Are you kind? Will you make sacrifices if needs be? A good marriage is like any partnership, it’s all about compromise. Can you do that?” 

Harry nods. Fuck, if he isn’t patient, willing to make sacrifices, no one is. Irving’s whole face is twitching now with the effort to keep from smiling. Harry is too shook to do anything but stand and stare steadily back at him.

“Yes,” he manages to say eventually. “Yes, I can do all that. I _have_ done all that …”

“And what about the ex, Harry?” Irving says gently. “Have you thought about what happens if he comes back? Looks for custody?”

Harry nods. It’s just his name on Sam’s birth cert. Thankfully, Californian state law is more progressive than a lot of the country. Sam is his, and his alone. Ellis told him as much, when he dropped him at the doors of the clinic, in the throes of labour, right before he disappeared. He thrust a wad of cash into Harry’s hand. _“For the kid, sweetheart. We both know it’s better this way. You don’t need to tell him about me. You guys will be fine on your own._ ”

“I really don’t think he’s coming back, Irving. I mean. He’d go to jail… But if he does then … I suppose we’d have to figure it out. Me and Jeff and Ellis. If Jeff adopts Sam, once we’re married, then that gives him rights too. But we’d just have to work through it. I guess it won’t be the only problem we might have, you know? For better or worse … we’ll be OK.”

“So, you think that all means you deserve our son, do you? That’s what you are telling us?”

Harry swallows. 

“I do,” he says, his voice is rough, shaky. He wishes he sounded stronger now. That it could give expression to the certainty that he feels inside. “I do think I … I think I’m good enough. I do. All I’ve done, any mistakes I made, it was just because I’ve tried to love someone. Even Ellis … I … I just tried to love someone. And I just want to love him, love Jeff. That’s all. I think that should be enough. I think I deserve the chance to do that. I think Jeff deserves that, deserves me.”

Irving stares back at him, the sparks of his humor in his eyes have faded into something warmer, softer now.

“Well, that’s it from me,” he says eventually. “Do you have any questions for Harry, Shelli?”

Harry swallows hard, turns to her, readies himself.

Shelli is gazing at him, her eyes full of tears.

“Just one … do you forgive us, honey?”

Harry feels his heart crack open. Tears spring to his eyes now too. He nods.

“Then, you have our blessing, Harry. You’re part of our family already. When you’re ready. You can ask Jeffrey. You just go right ahead and ask him.”

 

They’ve finished with all the hugging and crying by the time Jeff and Sam come back inside. But Jeff still looks suspiciously around at them all, like he knows something’s up. Luckily Sam chooses that moment to remember his first front tooth is coming through and he starts to grouse a bit. 

“Hey, hey, shush Sammy, didn’t Alien Command tell you about this part?” Jeff asks him, bouncing him gently, kissing the top of his head. “You gotta grow your humanoid teeth now, baby. It’ll help you assimilate.”

Harry comes over with a chilled teething ring. Sam grabs at it happily and munches his sore gums into it. “Our baby is not an alien, Jeff. You have to stop telling him that. He’ll get issues.”

Jeff wraps the arm not holding Sam around Harry then, pulls him in close, kisses the top of his head too. “I know he’s an alien, Harry, and so are you, you weirdo. You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me. How long is your mission here going to last anyway? How long am I stuck with you?” 

Harry leans into him, smiles a secret smile into Jeff’s neck.

“For always, I suppose.”

Finally. 

His always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! All done at last! If you've made it this far - thank you for reading! If you'd care to leave a comment, that would make my day!
> 
> And huge thanks again Jes (saysthemagpie) for letting me play with your story idea! And for all the kind encouragement along the way!


End file.
